


no other shade of blue

by bitterheart



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Character Death, Betrayal, Crimson Flower Route, Exile, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Permanent Injury, Reconciliation, Undercover, Wedding Night, betrothal, sparring is a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterheart/pseuds/bitterheart
Summary: Felix returns to the Kingdom after five years of fighting for the Empire, under the orders of Edelgard and Hubert to complete one mission: to gain Dimitri's trust and then kill him when his heart is exposed. It should be simple enough, if not for Felix's own emotions complicating matters.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 23
Kudos: 113
Collections: Dimilix Big Bang





	no other shade of blue

**Author's Note:**

> The art in this fic was done by the talented [Mino](https://twitter.com/minophisch)! Please show her some love and check out her other amazing art.

Dimitri is fourteen years old when he dies. The Tragedy of Duscur rips everything Felix has ever loved away from him: his brother, his father's warmth, and his closest friend.

Faerghus mourns the royal family. Felix tries to breathe through grief more potent than anything he has ever felt in his young life. 

He can't stand the thing that comes back in Dimitri's place, the hollowed-out creature with blank eyes that do nothing to hide the growing darkness within. It terrifies Felix and that fear makes him angry. Everyone else calls the thing Dimitri while Felix refuses to address it at all. He watches his own soft edges grow sharp with every moment his own father spends with this monster, treating it like more of a son than he does with Felix these days.  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix is sixteen years old and a squire, with his knight's blood all over his hands, flecked across his face and poured down the front of his uniform. Just a few metres in front of him, the beast that calls itself Dimitri is rampaging across the battlefield, bathed in blood and hungry for more.

There's a terrible feeling that twists itself through Felix, horror and vindication all at once as he watches his every suspicion come true, the crown prince of Faerghus revealing himself for the wild, uncontrollable boar that he is. Felix watches as Dimitri kills, then watches as his soldiers treat him as some kind of hero for it. As if it's something to be praised. 

The problem is this: Dimitri didn't die when he was fourteen at all, as much as Felix wishes it was the case.

This would be an easier story if he had.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Felix returns to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus after a five year disappearance with little fanfare. It's how he would have liked things to stay but of course it doesn't go that way. 

In most parts of Faerghus he's recognisable enough, if not by his face then by his resemblance to his father and brother, to gain passage where he needs to go. He knows better than to expect the same when entering Fhirdiad considering the kingdom capital has been under heavy guard since war broke out. Still, when he waits at the gates while a messenger announces his arrival, he doesn't expect his childhood friends to come and greet him. 

Ingrid and Sylvain have outrun the messenger on his return, bursting out of the gate with twin cries of, "Felix!" 

Then their hands are on him, poking and prodding and holding him, as if to make up for his five year absence.

"Look at you," Ingrid says, looking at him like she's trying to catalogue every little change in him since they last saw each other. "You cut your hair."

Felix resists the urge to touch his ponytail. "So did you. How practical of you." 

"Hey, compliment my hair too," Sylvain says, nudging Felix until he's elbowed in return. 

Ingrid laughs, Sylvain joins in and it's almost as if things are back to how they always were. Felix knows that they're not. 

After all, he's here for one reason alone: to kill Dimitri. 

"His Majesty would have come to greet you as well," Sylvain tells Felix, resting a hand on his back to guide him further in as if afraid that Felix is about to slip away again, "except he's in a meeting. When he heard you were back, he nearly walked right out to greet you himself. We had to promise him we'd be waiting with you in his sitting room once he was done with his meeting. Five years, Felix, and he never gave up hope that we'd find you again. He refused to believe that you were gone. Said you were too stubborn for that."

"The boar was right," Felix says, and pretends the words don't disgust him. "I won't go down so easily."

"Dimitri believed in you so strongly," Ingrid adds as they walk through the city and to the castle. "Whenever he heard rumours of a skilled swordsman, he'd send some soldiers in that direction to investigate, just in case it was you." 

Felix knows. He's killed every single Kingdom soldier he's crossed paths with, leaving no trail to be followed, leaving no evidence of where he's spent the past five years, or how he's spent it. "Obviously, it wasn't."

"But you're home now," Ingrid says, and the wrongness of that word rattles its way through Felix's bones. _Home_. He's given up the notion of having a place to belong. He gave that up five years ago, along with any hope for the future. He's set himself on this path now and he has no choice but to walk it to the bloody end. 

His next obstacle on this path: the tall double doors of the castle, swinging inwards to allow the three of them inside, to where Dimitri waits. 

The sitting room Felix is led to is one where he remembers his father spending evenings talking with Lambert in a time long gone, back when Felix would actually look forward to seeing Dimitri, back when Glenn was still alive. It's largely unchanged since then and while Sylvain crosses the room to relax into one of the armchairs, Felix stays on his feet. He doesn't let himself pace, standing by one of the bookcases instead, his eyes scanning the colourful spines even though he doesn't process what any of them say. He knows that the moment the door opens again, it will be to let Dimitri inside. 

There have been so many rumours floating around about King Dimitri Blaiddyd that Felix hasn't been able to avoid them even when he's tried. He's heard that Dimitri's strength has grown, that he is unforgiving on the battlefield, that he can snap a lesser man in half when in the middle of a fight. Felix doesn't doubt that it's all true. After all, he's seen Dimitri do worse. In the past five years, he can only imagine that the boar has become more savage. 

For that reason, he's prepared when Dimitri finally enters the room fifteen minutes later, taller and broader and looking every part the beastly king that the rumours make him out to be. What he isn't prepared for is the way Dimitri looks at him from across the room, so open and so fond that Felix can't bear it. He looks away, jaw set, and folds his arms across his chest.

"Where have you been?" Dimitri asks, with no accusation in his tone. He's unfailingly earnest, in the way that has always gotten under Felix's skin. "I… Felix, we looked for you everywhere."

Felix shrugs, "I was fighting. Sorry I didn't have time to write you a letter."

"Well, the important thing is that you're here now," Ingrid says placatingly. "Having another strong fighter join our ranks is certainly cause for celebration." 

"True," Felix mutters. "From the looks of it, you could do with any help you can get. Are you just waiting for Edelgard to come marching on the capital? You're sitting ducks. You and all the civilians here." 

"If it's all the same to you," Sylvain speaks up, "I wouldn't walk into a city I haven't seen for more than five years and presume to know the best strategy to defend it."

"Then tell me why I have the suspicion that it's exactly what you're doing right now." Felix folds his arms across his chest. He doesn't know what state he expected to find the kingdom in upon his return but he can't help the disappointment. For all that they've managed to keep Edelgard in a stalemate for the past five years, Felix can barely tell how they've managed it.

"Can we not fight?" Sylvain asks with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're here. You're _alive_. That's two things I didn't even dare to hope for yesterday. I just want to be glad that my friend's here and safe."

Felix laughs hollowly. " _Safe_ is an interesting concept when we're in the middle of a war."

"And it's just not Felix unless he's getting under everyone's skin with as few words as possible." Ingrid rolls her eyes. "You might as well put your things down somewhere. We'll find you a room somewhere." 

Dimitri clears his throat. "I know where he can stay—"

"No," Felix cuts in, already knowing exactly where Dimitri is thinking of. "I'll stay in the barracks."

"Felix," Dimitri says patiently. 

"I said no."

"Barracks are full," Sylvain speaks up, giving Felix a shove and sending him stumbling towards Dimitri's direction. "Just shut up and go, Felix. It'll be better than sleeping on the floor, or whatever hole you've been living in for the past five years. Don't make His Majesty throw you over his shoulder and carry you there because he _will_ and it will be humiliating. Actually, if you wanted to make him do that, go right ahead. I'll watch."

"Don't touch me," Felix snarls at Dimitri. "If you're all so insistent about it, then _fine_." 

"This way," Dimitri says, a little unnecessarily as he leads the way through the main parts of the castle and to the residential wing, reserved for the royal family and those closest to it. 

Felix takes a deep breath, following Dimitri down the hallway until they both stop in front of a door. It's a simple door, made of dark wood and wholly unremarkable if not for the Crest of Fraldarius carved into the centre of it. Felix avoids looking at it, his gaze fixed on the plush carpet under his boots. 

He looks at the handle and steels himself. It's just a door. It's just a room. He turns the handle and the door opens without a creak. The room within isn't covered with dust sheets the way Felix had thought it would be. It looks well-maintained, as if it's been kept waiting. There's expectation in the fresh sheets and the open window. Dimitri has waited for him for five years. 

Perhaps, if Felix hadn't returned, Dimitri would go to his own grave still waiting. 

"Will this be sufficient?" Dimitri asks as he hovers by the door, as if this isn't the very room Felix has stayed in on his countless visits to the capital with his family, back when _his family_ meant more than just his father. 

"It's fine." 

Felix stands by the opposite wall, facing the window. It’s uncomfortable looking out onto the familiar view of the courtyard, with its fountain and gardens that have remained wholly unchanged over the years when Felix barely even feels like the same person. It’s still easier than looking at Dimitri. 

“You don’t need to be here,” Felix mutters, keeping his back to Dimitri. “You’re the king and you’re losing this war. You’re wasting your time showing me to a room I already know my way to instead of planning your next move.“

Dimitri doesn’t reply immediately. Felix feels the silence stretching between them like a chasm that could swallow him whole. He waits, unwilling to break it himself, until Dimitri finally huffs out an empty laugh. When Felix turns to look, Dimitri looks resigned. 

“You have not changed at all, Felix.”

"What do you know," Felix snaps. "You couldn't even find me for the past five years."

"Not for lack of trying." Dimitri sighs. "I refused to believe you were dead, all this time. It would have been so easy, when every attempt I made to find you bore no fruit."

"Like hell I would ever haunt you," Felix sneers. "I barely want to look at you when I'm alive. What do you expect? For me to be grateful that you're waiting to see my gravestone before you hang it around your neck?" 

"I have learned not to expect anything from you, Felix," Dimitri says softly, turning to leave. "I am just grateful to see you alive and well. That is all I can ask."

The room feels emptier without Dimitri in it. Felix turns away from the door, taking a deep breath. He's always known better than to expect that he would enjoy being back here but then again, there isn't much enjoyment to be found in war. The closest he comes is the grim satisfaction of a kill and he barely likes that any more, ever since he looked at his own blood-spattered reflection on a shield and saw a creature not unlike the boar in his place. 

This is a mission, just like any other, and all Felix needs to do is ignore the overbearing familiarity of this room, of this castle, and focus on his end goal. 

He's almost managed to calm himself when a knock sounds on the doorframe. Felix turns, expecting Sylvain or Ingrid, dreading it would be Dimitri back for more pointless pleasantries. Instead, there's a servant standing in the doorway, dressed the same as every other servant at the castle. Felix straightens his shoulders, knowing that this servant is anything but. 

“I have a message from my master,” the servant tells him, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. “He will be pleased to know that you have arrived as quickly as he expected. I will be your intermediary while you are within Fhirdiad. Any messages he sends will come from me.”

“ _Intermediary_ ,” Felix scoffs. “That implies the communication is two-way. I doubt that’s the case.”

The servant smiles at him. “I imagine you already knew to expect that when coming into this mission.”

“That I did. Before you leave, you might as well take a message for the castle staff. I'm not planning on leaving my room for the rest of the day and want my meals sent up to me. If anyone asks, I'm tired from travelling all the way here."

“Of course.” The servant bows respectfully low but there’s no respect in the mocking smile he wears as he leaves. 

Alone again, Felix finally starts pulling his weapons off and lining them up on his bed. It's something of a ritual for him, no matter the place and no matter the bed. First come the daggers he has hidden under his clothes, then the swords. 

It leaves him feeling light. Too light for comfort, even when he's still wearing the mail under his clothing. He doesn't know how to recognise himself without having a blade on hand any more. Whoever he was and whoever he could have been has been lost under all the blood he's spilled, until he's remade himself in the image of the very person he's determined to destroy. 

No matter, Felix tells himself as he sets his weapons aside. He isn't attached to the idea of surviving this. As long as he does the one thing he's set out to do, he doesn't care what happens to him after. 

He climbs into his bed, sinking into the soft familiarity of a time that's long gone. For all his protests, it's still better than the barracks.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
When Felix wakes the next morning, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. He lies still, listening for any signs of danger as he remembers the events that led him here.

It's a familiar routine, one that he's done every morning for the past five years. He's used to shabby rooms barely bigger than a broom closet in the corner of an inn, and the Fraldarius teal that greets him is disorienting at first, made worse by its familiarity. 

For the past few years, Felix has rarely stayed in the same place for more than a handful of days at best, restless like a caged beast and just as hungry for his next kill.

Perhaps he wasn't always like this but it's a waste of time to consider whatever else he could have been when the fact remains that this is the path he chose to walk. He does not think himself a man of the Empire any more than he would call himself a man of the Kingdom. Both require a degree of blind loyalty that simply does not come naturally to him. Not when he's seen it kill his brother and ruin the lives of so many others. 

Still, when the Adrestian Empire declared war, Felix had come to the realisation that Edelgard's goals were more in line with his own. She'd made an enemy of the church and by extension, Dimitri as well. Felix isn't in the habit of calling an enemy of his enemy his friend—certainly not of Edelgard von Hresvelg—and at most, they would make for a convenient ally. 

Edelgard, with Hubert determined to become her sentient, scheming shadow, is something much worse than that. 

Felix has come to learn that between the two of them, there are more schemes running behind the scenes than even the most skilled tactician can hope to anticipate. He doesn't know when Hubert first started pulling the strings to ensure that Felix was never discovered to be fighting for the Empire. It had never been something Felix had intended to hide but he has never been one to care about much more than the here and now. 

Hubert's plan, for all Felix knows, could have been five years in the making. It doesn't matter to him, the way his instructions do. He just needs to get close enough to Dimitri for him to expose his heart. Then, Felix's job is to ensure that it never beats again. 

The intelligence that Hubert has gathered seems to give him the impression that Dimitri cares for Felix more than he possibly could. It's impossible for a beast to care about _anything_ beyond the cruel satisfaction of killing but Hubert had been adamant. Felix didn't bother arguing it any further, especially when Hubert's network of spies had given him another piece of information, so old and buried that Felix had almost forgotten it himself. 

_You were betrothed to him_ , Hubert had said to him, mocking and curious all at once. 

_Before I was even born_ , Felix had snapped then. Long before Glenn died, when one child had been enough and the second just a bonus to strengthen bonds that already seemed unbreakable. 

If one were to make a point of it, and Hubert had, their betrothal had never formally been rescinded. 

_You could follow through on your betrothal_ , Hubert mused. Felix hadn't been sure whether he was joking but wanted to stab him all the same. _You could murder him in his own bed. Wouldn't that be satisfying?_

Sitting up in bed, Felix scoffs and shoves the memory to the back of his mind. Hubert, with his assassins and poisons, seems to think of killing as an art form. There are elegant ways to do it, and there’s a certain pleasure to be had in matching the method to the target. 

Felix disagrees. To him, the most satisfying part of killing someone is when they’re dead. Dimitri will be no different. All he needs to do is wait for the right time, and when the opportunity presents itself, Felix knows that he won't hesitate. He's spent too long waiting for this opportunity and he's thrown too much away in the process; his future, his past, and most everything in between. Felix has always known that he would never be able to dedicate his life to serving Dimitri. Killing him, perhaps, is a different story. 

A knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. He holds his breath, holding himself still as he waits.

"Felix." Dimitri's voice is deep but soft, and the very last thing Felix wants to hear right now. "I was wondering if you would join me for breakfast? And before you refuse, I thought it could be worth reminding you that this early in the morning, there are less people in the dining hall."

Felix opens his door with a loud sigh. "Fine. Happy?"

Dimitri says nothing at first, simply staring at him. Felix feels his own face heat when he realises he's still sleep-rumpled, his hair hanging loose down to his shoulders and still dressed in his night clothes. 

"Stop staring at me," Felix snaps, turning away and pulling his hair back as he hunts for his hair tie. 

"I was not—" Dimitri begins, and then seems to realise that there's no denying it. "I am just happy to see you again, Felix."

Looking over his shoulder, Felix glares. "Can you leave so I can at least get changed in privacy?"

"Oh—of course." Dimitri shuts the door behind him, which only serves to irritate Felix more when he would have slammed it in Dimitri's face. 

Worse yet, he's still standing there when Felix is done changing, waiting in front of his door like he has no other place to be. 

"I can find my way to the dining hall myself," Felix tells him, leading the way without stopping to wait for Dimitri.

It's even more irritating that even at Felix's quickest walking pace, Dimitri still falls into step with him easily.

"I never meant to imply that you did not know the way," Dimitri tells him. "You cannot fault me for wanting to spend as much time with you as possible, Felix. I spent so long not knowing where you were or how you were faring. To have you here in front of me now, knowing that you are safe and unhurt… it means more than I can say."

"You're wasting your time worrying about me when there are entire regions out there that need your attention more," Felix dismisses. "Aren't you being selfish, caring about your own—caring about people you know personally, when there are so many others out there?" 

"I would never consider it a waste of time," Dimitri replies patiently. "Not with you. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of caring for more than one thing at a time. You can think me selfish if you like but I am more than my title as king. I will care for every single one of my friends and I have always counted you as one of them." 

Felix doesn't reply, simply picking up his pace and continuing to the dining hall. He remembers this place, from all his visits with his family when he was younger but like most things now, it has changed to suit the war. In place of the single long table made of polished oak that sat in the centre of the room, the room is crammed full of tables and chairs, clearly brought in from all different parts of the table and worn from daily wear. There's a row of tables against the wall holding large serving bowls of freshly made food, and servants going back and forth from the kitchen to add to the table. 

"Felix?" Dimitri asks, making him realise that he's been standing by the doorway and taking the sight in. 

He doesn't acknowledge Dimitri at all, walking over to grab a plate and pile his plate high with food before sitting down. He focuses on eating, refusing to look up when others join him at the table.

"Oh, Felix." It's Ashe who greets him, sitting opposite him with a smile. "I heard you arrived yesterday. It's good to see you. It's been so long."

"Much too long," Dimitri agrees, sitting beside Felix. "It's good to have him back."

Dedue sits down opposite to Dimitri, watching Felix silently. It makes Felix want to grit his teeth. He's never liked Dedue or his blind loyalty, not back at the Academy and definitely not now. Dedue has always been by Dimitri's side and that doesn't seem to have changed. Felix knows that the most difficult part of achieving what he came here to do will be pulling Dimitri away from Dedue's side for long enough. Dimitri chats happily with Ashe while eating, not taking notice of the fact that Dedue is watching Felix so closely. 

It's better than having to sit through breakfast with his older friends but Felix still finds himself agitated by the end of it, finishing as quickly as he can before he gets up and walks off without a word, heading in the direction of the training yard. 

There are already soldiers taking up most of the space, doing their drills in unison. Felix walks to the opposite end, laying his weapons out on a bench against the wall so he can start cleaning them.

In a life with such little consistency, Felix has found the value in rituals. He has few of them but they never fail to make him feel a little more in control. Maintaining his weapons has been a long-standing ritual, long before he ever enrolled at the Officers Academy. He doesn't always have the time for it before and after each battle he's in but he has the luxury of time here, aided by the fact that he's not walking into a proper battle. He could use the training swords hanging in their racks, but Felix prefers the weight and reassurance of his own weapons. 

Felix hears Dimitri approach before he even draws breath to speak. It's as if he's been trained to recognise Dimitri's footsteps, etched into the back of Felix's mind and triggering his fight or flight response.

As always, Felix chooses _fight_.

"Boar." He picks his sword up as he turns. "Spar with me."

Dimitri blinks at him, clearly taken aback as if he wasn't expecting this. That's his own fault. 

Felix gestures at him with his sword. "If you're so eager to waste your time tailing me around the castle, at least make it worth _my_ time and spar with me. Get your weapon ready."

Dimitri settles then, squaring his shoulders as all traces of hesitation disappear. There are few things that they can share comfortably, Felix has made sure of that. If there's one thing left, it's this: a sparring session. Felix's words have always been as sharp as his blades but he's only ever been good at using one of those things. Dimitri has always had the strength to challenge him and for that reason alone, Felix continues to allow this.

"With real blades?" Dimitri asks but he doesn't even wait for Felix's reply before walking over to the weapons rack. Dimitri might not be fighting with his usual weapon but Felix doesn't mind that. Anything with a sharpened edge will do. Anything _real_. 

Dimitri is testing the spear in his grip when Dedue steps out past the pillars. He looks between them both, the corners of his lips turning down. 

"Your Majesty," Dedue begins, looking past Felix. "You're scheduled to meet for the war council shortly. I understand that you have always valued your training but if I can suggest—"

"You can't," Felix interrupts. "Get out of our way before you get caught in it."

"I'd rather you didn't threaten my friends, Felix." Dimitri grips his chosen lance tightly. It's heavier than the standard; Felix doesn't doubt that Dimitri has chosen it for its similarity to his usual weapon. Good, he thinks. The closer he can get to a real battle, the more satisfying it will be.

"Your Majesty—" 

"Dedue." Dimitri gives him a smile, all soft edges that look out of place on the beast that he is. "It's just one sparring session. Surely, I can be allowed that before our meeting?" 

Felix scoffs as Dedue steps back, walking past him and out onto the yard. It would be too easy and too obvious to kill Dimitri here and now. At the very least, Felix will have the chance to gauge his strength. The rest can come later and even that matters little to him now. All he truly wants to do is to fight. 

"What are your rules?" Dimitri asks as they circle each other. 

They've caught the attention of others now, soldiers and non-soldiers alike crowding into the training yard to watch. Felix pays them no mind.

"There are no rules on a battlefield," Felix replies. "You either live or you die." 

Dimitri's frown deepens. "No one will be dying today." 

"Then live," Felix snaps, making his first move.

Every single battle Felix has fought for the past five years has been one to the death. He has no intention of holding back here and doesn't even know how he would if he wanted to. He's learned to draw on his agility, his form, every single training drill he's etched into his very bones until it comes without second thought.

He's been called many things by the Empire soldiers he's fought alongside, most of them derogatory where they don't think they can hear him but he holds onto the whispers of _brutal, deadly, unforgiving, savage_ , and he hears them repeated to him in the clash of his sword against Dimitri's lance as he blocks each slash.

If Felix fights like he's trying to kill, then so does Dimitri. It's satisfying, having his own intentions reflected at him like this, to see the boar reveal himself for what he truly is. There's the same look in his bright eyes; the blue of a clear winter's morning and all the chill of it too. 

Dimitri is bigger and slower but he knows how to use his strength and bulk to his advantage, pushing against Felix hard enough that it would push him backwards if not for his footing. He puts his weight behind each swing of his lance, each time he catches Felix's swings and pushes him off course. Felix doesn't know how long they've been fighting for but they're both sweating already, panting with the exertion. They're evenly matched. Reflected in each other; two monsters who know nothing but to kill and destroy. 

Felix slips closer into Dimitri's space, his blade almost meeting skin before Dimitri pushes him off once again. It's progress, he thinks with grim satisfaction. One step closer to spilling Dimitri's blood. 

"Is this the best you can do, Boar?" Felix sneers. "It's been five years. Is this all that you've grown in that time? Is this all the strength you have? This is never going to be enough to avenge _anyone_ who died for you, let alone win a war." 

He receives no reply but he sees it in Dimitri's eyes, when his words sink in and that winter chill becomes something colder. Something that reminds him of the nights in the middle of a snowstorm, when the wind would feel so cold that it would burn. 

Now, in front of him, Dimitri burns with that same coldness. He's no longer in the training yard but on the battlefield. He swings harder, driving Felix backwards with a force that no amount of footwork can make up for. He's a wild animal, backing Felix into a corner to make the final blow. Felix grins, baring his teeth. This is the Dimitri he wants to fight. The Dimitri he wants to defeat. The mission doesn't matter to him now and none of his goals do either. Nothing matters more than the urge to drive Dimitri into the ground, to have him on his back, to feel the satisfaction of the tip of Felix's sword pointed at his throat as he yields. 

Felix doesn't expect the way Dimitri swipes his lance at his feet, and then trips him with a foot hooked behind him as he lands. With a sharp gasp, Felix feels himself fall, the packed dirt of the training yard rushing up to meet him and knock the air out of him. Above him, Dimitri is a blizzard still raging. His eyes are empty, the tip of his lance sharp as he drives it down. Felix barely manages to raise his sword in time, knocking the lance off its course for his throat, the blade stabbing into his shoulder instead.

He hisses in pain as he feels the blood trickle from the wound as Dimitri pulls his lance back. In an instant, Dimitri comes back to himself, his lance clattering to the ground. 

" _Felix_ ," he cries, going to his knees. 

"Shut up," Felix snaps, sitting up and holding his arm tightly, just under the wound. "It's just one cut." 

"I could have killed you," Dimitri says. "I would have, if you weren't quick enough."

"And I was." Felix staggers to his feet, the exhaustion washing over him the moment he's standing again. He blinks the spots out of his vision, turning away. "I'm still alive, aren't I? Stop it."

"I'll send for a healer," Dimitri says. "Mercedes will be able to fix what I have done."

"I've already sent for her," Dedue says as he steps forward in front of Dimitri, hands already resting on his shoulders. He's frowning, and his words are directed at Felix. "It was unwise to provoke him like that, when you know his strength."

Felix clicks his tongue. "What does it matter? I knew he wouldn't do anything serious. I knew I could handle it."

"Felix!" Ingrid calls as she runs over. She looks him up and down, sighing with frustration. "What were you thinking? Oh—look at His Majesty. He looks so upset." 

"What does it matter?" Felix asks louder this time. "This is the boar. If I didn't give him an excuse to feel guilty today, then surely he'd find ten more by midday. I asked him to spar with me. We sparred. End of story." 

He grabs his weapons and leaves, only to narrowly avoid colliding with Mercedes once he's inside.

"Oh, Felix!" Mercedes smiles at him, her expression as difficult to read as ever. "I heard that you fought with Dimitri and needed some healing. That wound looks painful." 

"It's fine," Felix replies through clenched teeth. Now, without Dimitri before him and the adrenaline fading, the pain starts to make itself known. He digs his fingers into his arm, just under the wound, and grits his teeth. "I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are," Mercedes replies patiently, guiding Felix to sit down on a nearby bench and then sitting beside him. "Breathe evenly. One deep breath in, hold it, then exhale. Repeat." 

It's a sign of how much his shoulder hurts him that Felix does as he's told without argument. He doesn't make a sound, even as Mercedes pokes at his shoulder to assess the damage. 

"Well," she says at last, "I think you're very lucky that you weren't stabbed at full force. I'm afraid that our lovely king has more strength than he always knows what to do with. Perhaps next time you choose a sparring partner, you can choose someone who is a little more predictable? Or perhaps it would be a good idea not to provoke your opponent and wait for them to lose control, when you know the threats that might pose." 

Felix scoffs, trying to hold his arms until Mercedes very firmly keeps his wounded side still. "Great. So you're telling me that I did something wrong. You're all coddling the boar and it's not going to help him _or_ change what he is. It doesn't matter how nice you are to him or how long you wait. He's always going to be like this. He's always going to be a monster wearing the skin of a man and hoping that it fools you. If it works, then maybe you all deserve it." 

"I think he's trying his best," Mercedes tells him patiently. "I think, in the current circumstances, that's the best that any of us can do. I hope you can say the same of yourself, Felix."

"Are you done yet?" Felix asks, raising his eyebrow and looking down at the glowing white light coming from Mercedes' hands. "Can I leave?" 

"Of course! Just don't go too far. I want to keep an eye on how you're healing over the next few days. No heavy lifting, okay? I want to see you resting your arm and shoulder, and if I see you going against what I've asked, I'll make sure that you remember next time." 

Felix recognises a threat when he hears one. He just doesn't know what to do when it's Mercedes delivering that threat, wearing the same smile she would while she wishes someone a nice day. 

"Light use, fine," Felix mutters, rubbing his arm as he gets up and leaves. 

He counts himself lucky that Dimitri isn't hovering somewhere, ready with his best impression of a kicked puppy to make Felix feel guilty when everyone else's attempts have failed. He's spared from that but it comes at the price of finding Sylvain waiting for him instead. 

"So," Sylvain says, falling into step with Felix as if he is somehow wanted or welcome. "I heard you and Dimitri got into a fight."

"I asked him to spar with me," Felix snaps.

"From what I heard, it was _meant_ to be a sparring session until you found your way under his skin and provoked him with some pretty terrible words." Sylvain folds his arms behind his head as they walk. "Look, I'm not here to tell you what you've probably heard from everyone else on your way here. Sucks that Dimitri feels guilty about what happened, especially when it's obvious that you don't care even half as much. I just… I don't know, Felix. I just feel like even though you're here with us now, you're still so far away. Like we're trying to reach you—Goddess knows how hard Dimitri's trying—but no matter how much we try, we still can't quite get to you. It's like you're here, physically, but that's all we have. I need you to be here completely, okay? We all do." 

Felix lets out a huff of irritation at the way Sylvain so easily keeps pace with him no matter how many times he tries to walk faster. "Whatever you're trying to say, it's stupid."

Sylvain, as usual, doesn't let Felix bait him. "I don't think it is, Felix. You've changed. Obviously, we've all changed. It's been years and there's a war, and it would be kind of weird if any of us _didn't_ change, right? Except I don't know what it is with you. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't seen you for five years. It just feels like you're not the same guy I knew from back then."

"Well," Felix says flatly. "Maybe I'm not." 

"I don't believe that," Sylvain says softly, reaching for Felix's uninjured shoulder. "Dimitri doesn't either." 

Felix knocks Sylvain's hand away and walks off, retreating to his own room once again. "And that's your own fault."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Dimitri avoids him the next day, and it's the closest thing to peace that Felix has experienced in the past five years. The guilt from yesterday must still be eating away at him and Felix simply isn't in the mood to step in and change that. 

Still, this feels like the calm before a storm and it puts Felix on edge. He doesn't know what to expect and it's worse when he sees the others clearly preparing for something. It's not a battle, he can tell that much from their demeanour, but even Ingrid and Sylvain's backs look a little stiff as they rush back and forth, carrying maps and documents into what must be Dimitri's study.

Felix doesn't ask, partially because he doesn't care but mostly because he can't shake the feeling that he _should_ know. That if he had been here for the past handful of years instead of cutting his way through the borders of the Empire, he would understand what isn't being said. He hates the way it tells him what he already knows: that he doesn't belong here. He's thrown away the notion of belonging anywhere a long time ago but one of the lessons he's learned time and time again on the battlefield that has stretched itself across Fódlan is that resigning himself to something is still worlds away from making his peace with it. 

He runs himself through more training drills when the unasked and unanswered question of what's coming begins to agitate him. He slashes and shoulders and kicks his way through three short sparring sessions with some knights he doesn't bother asking the names of, until his healing shoulder starts to ache. He cleans his blades and paces the perimeter of the castle wall, and as the afternoon sun begins to turn the cold sky a dusky pink, he gets his answer in the trill of a horn, the steady clop of hooves, and his own family's standard held proudly to the sky. 

It's a small number travelling together, no more than fifteen men in total. Of them, at the very front of the group, seated on a horse as familiar as home, Felix sees his father. 

Five years have done little to change him. He's more gaunt but Felix has yet to meet a single person who looks healthier for the war. He looks up, finding Felix where he stands in one of the crenels of the wall. Felix doesn't move, keeping his expression blank. From this distance, he can't see the details of his father's expression but he notices the lack of surprise. 

Dimitri must have told him. 

The thought rattles through his entire being once he's had it, fuelled by a surge of anger. He can see it in detail that is all too clear; Dimitri sending a missive to Rodrigue, informing him that Felix has returned; Rodrigue abandoning his post and marching to the capital just to see for himself; the uncomfortable dinner that will no doubt follow, in which Rodrigue will have to pretend to be glad to see Felix, and Felix will be unable to pretend the same. 

Rodrigue dismounts his horse to walk into the gates and greet Dimitri, stepping out of sight of the castle wall. Felix scoffs, turning on his heel and walking away. He isn't in the mood to listen to Dimitri speaking to his father. He heads to his room, hoping that with any luck he won't need to interact with his father or anyone else until it's time for dinner. 

He isn't so lucky. Ingrid is standing in front of his door, hands at her sides as if she's standing to attention, clearly waiting for him.

"I thought I might find you here." 

"Get out of my way." 

"You haven't seen your father in years, Felix." Ingrid stays right where she is. "At the very least, you should say hello."

"He's busy with the boar." Felix rests his hand on his sword, even though he has no intention of drawing it. Ingrid's expression, as her gaze follows his movement, says that she knows as much. "I have no interest in talking to that man. Move."

"He's your father, Felix."

"Barely," Felix sneers. "And he isn't your father either, no matter how hard you wish he could be."

He's counting on her to get upset, to run away. Instead, she tenses her jaw and slaps him. The sound rings out in the empty hallway and Felix's cheek burns. 

"I was happy when you returned," Ingrid tells him, soft and sorrowful. "But you've come back terrible." 

Felix clicks his tongue. "I was always like this."

"No." Ingrid shakes her head firmly. "You're nothing like you were before. If Glenn could see you now, he'd be disappointed."

"Well, he can't," Felix snaps. "He's dead, thanks to the boar, who my old man has always treated like the favourite son. I'm only as valuable as the sacrifice I can make for this kingdom. Glenn's death taught me that."

Ingrid sighs. "Felix, you know that's not true. Why are you being so—"

He turns on his heel and walks away. It doesn't matter if he can't shut himself in his room until dinner time. There are plenty of other places he could be. 

He keeps to the back of the castle, away from all the activity, and ends up in one of the gardens. It's quiet enough that he doesn't realise there's anyone else here until Mercedes looks up from where she's sitting, giving him a warm smile. 

"That's quite the mark you have on your cheek there." 

Felix holds his hand to his cheek, scowling. It's still warm and stinging from Ingrid's slap. 

"Come here," Mercedes says, reaching out a hand.

"Don't touch me." 

She only smiles in reply. Felix hesitantly takes a step forward, sitting beside her on the garden bench. He keeps a wary eye on her, even when she folds her hands in her lap. 

"You're not going to talk to me about my father, are you?" he asks into the silence that stretches between them.

She simply shakes her head. He exhales slowly, grateful for the lack of conversation and the lack of judgement. He knew it would be difficult returning to Faerghus when it's both the closest and furthest thing from home to him, when it's been five long years, when the space he left has grown smaller and smaller in his absence until he no longer fits in it. It's one thing to be mentally prepared for something and another thing entirely to have to face it.

At least here, sitting beside Mercedes, he can let his thoughts run their course without interruption or having to try and back out of a conversation. He doesn't ask why she's out here instead of with everyone else and she doesn't make him feel like he should be either. Felix is fond of silence but rarely finds it in the company of others. 

They sit in the garden until night falls and dinner is being served. Felix is reluctant as he stands. The air is growing increasingly colder as night falls and it's doing no favours to his shoulder. Mercedes clearly notices but she makes no comment on that either. 

The dining hall is already bustling by the time Felix enters. He would like nothing more than to sit in a quiet corner for the duration of the meal and then slip out before anyone else notices but Sylvain grabs him by the shoulder the moment he's in the hall, his tight grip belying his airy laugh as he leads Felix over to the table where Dimitri is sitting with Rodrigue. 

"Hey, Felix! I haven't seen you since the afternoon. It's almost as if you were hiding or something."

"Why are you doing this?" Felix asks between clenched teeth. 

"Your father came to see you as soon as he could," Sylvain replies, his fingers digging into Felix's shoulder a little harder. "The least you can do is sit at the same table as him."

Felix wants to dig his heels in or better yet, slip under Sylvain's arms and turn to leave. He knows that it will cause a bigger scene though and the last thing he wants is to draw attention. Sylvain probably knows that too. 

"Listen." Sylvain lowers his voice. "I don't know where you've been but it's been a rough five years in the Kingdom. We know we're losing. We would've lost a long time ago if not for your father there and his knowledge and skill to guide us. I know things aren't… ideal between the two of you. I'm just saying, there isn't anyone else here whose father would march for a day just to greet us after we returned home. That has to count for something." 

Felix says nothing. He shrugs Sylvain's hand off as they reach the table, once Sylvain has stopped holding onto him so tightly. He hates the anticipation in Dimitri's eyes, like he's expecting Felix to be glad for the fact that he'd sent for Rodrigue as soon as he possibly could. 

He isn't prepared for the look in his father's eyes. There's relief there but it does nothing to hide the sorrow. Felix takes the empty seat beside his father, uncomfortable with the realisation that until yesterday, Rodrigue might have thought that he was the only Fraldarius left alive. 

Not that it matters. By the end of this, Felix knows there will be nothing left of Fraldarius, of Blaiddyd, of Faerghus at all. 

"Felix," his father says, his voice the same as ever. He says nothing more. That, too, is the same as ever. Their family has never been one to put their emotions into words, or actions, or anywhere that can be seen at all. At length, his father draws a breath. "It's good to see you alive." 

"Why," Felix mutters, focusing on the meat he's piling onto his plate, "so you can know that I didn't die quietly in a ditch somewhere? So that I can die for the kingdom too?" 

"Felix." Dimitri's firm tone makes him tense up. It's the first time Dimitri's spoken to him at all today, between avoiding him from yesterday's incident and preparing for Rodrigue's arrival. There's no hesitation in his voice now, his gaze steady and cold. 

"Whatever," Felix mutters, stuffing his mouth with food so he doesn't need to speak. 

It's not as effective a strategy as he'd hoped; he still had to sit there and bear witness to his father and Dimitri discussing the war as they eat. Dimitri and Rodrigue have been spear-heading the rebellion against the Empire; while Dimitri is the figurehead of everything that stands against the Empire, Rodrigue is the general who knows how to turn the tide of the battlefield. There are entire territories that still fly blue standards instead of red who owe it to Rodrigue. Felix hates the sense of inadequacy that crawls under his skin and winds itself around his rib cage like a vine. He thought this sort of thing stopped mattering to him a long time ago. 

"I do wish I could fight more," Dimitri says, so earnestly that Felix nearly scoffs. "It seems unfair that there should be others risking their lives on the battlefield while I am safe here. I finally have a use for my strength and yet…"

"It's inevitable that the day will come." Rodrigue sounds more serious and sincere than he ever has when speaking to Felix. "There is no need to rush and meet it. All you can do is make sure that you are prepared for it."

"Of course." Dimitri nods solemnly. "I will not fail." 

Felix rises to his feet, walking away from the table and out of the hall entirely. He saw Ingrid sitting in the hall with Sylvain, Annette, Ashe and Mercedes. It means he's finally free to go to his room. 

"Felix."

"Why are you here." Felix stops but doesn't look behind him. "Shouldn't you be talking with my old man? Pretending that you're fighting a war that you can win? Pretending he's not wasting his time?"

"He came here for you, Felix." 

"I don't care." 

Dimitri grabs him by the arm and turns him around. Felix's heart leaps to his throat but when Dimitri frowns at him, his eyes are full of righteous anger, worlds away from the dark beast Felix is expecting. 

"Your father is a great man."

"My father's proudest moment was when my brother died," Felix spits. "For you, boar. You're the reason my brother is dead and eventually, you'll be the reason that everyone else here is dead too. Sylvain. Ingrid. My father—"

"Then why are you here?" Dimitri asks, tightening his grip on Felix's arm. "You don't expect that we will live and you refuse to die for me. Why return to Faerghus at all?"

Felix tries to pull away from Dimitri but in his struggle, only ends up closer in his space. They're nose to nose with Dimitri crowding over him, and Felix can feel his heart pounding through his entire body. 

"Maybe," Felix says slowly, "I just came to watch you fall." 

"I won't." Dimitri sounds so sure of himself that it makes Felix feel as if his entire body is catching fire. 

He thinks it's anger but he's never felt anger like this before, the kind that starts in his chest and rushes through him like a forest fire consuming the dead trees of summer. He doesn't have the time to dwell on it, when Dimitri holds his arm even tighter, enough to hurt. 

"I will stop Edelgard. I will put an end to this war and do what I can to make this a better place for all." Dimitri's eyes bore into Felix's with a terrifying clarity. "And you will be here to watch it happen, Felix." 

"Hey, Your Majesty, I—oh." It's Sylvain who interrupts, slowing to a stop as his words peter out. He looks between Dimitri and Felix, then laughs as he rubs the back of his neck. "I was gonna ask if you found Felix but, hey. Looks like you did." 

Felix pulls himself away from Dimitri and it feels like whatever thread had been pulled taut between them has been severed. His shoulders sag and his lungs hurt as he takes a deep breath, as if they've forgotten how. 

"I'm going to sleep," he mutters, turning on his heel. 

He's glad that both Dimitri and Sylvain have the sense not to follow this time. His heart is still racing as he reaches his room and he leans back against the door as he locks it behind him, forcing himself to breathe through it. He isn't used to being so close to someone without it leading to a fight. The threat is gone but he's still wound up. 

He sits heavily on his bed, gripping his arm. He can still feel the way Dimitri's fingers dug into his skin. He's certain that there will be bruises in the morning but even as he gets under the covers to sleep, he finds that he can't stop touching his arm.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Felix wakes to bruises that span his upper arm, blue and purple and accompanied by a dull ache whenever he moves it. He's had worse and at the very least, it's on the opposite side to his healing shoulder. He can live with it and the bruises don't show from under his clothes anyway. He takes one look at himself in the mirror, already well-practiced at carrying himself to mask his injuries, and decides that there shouldn't be an issue.

Dimitri, of course, doesn't make it that easy for him.

His avoidance from yesterday had been welcome. Today, the guilt that hangs over him is uncomfortably palpable. Felix struggles to ignore the way Dimitri watches him, like he's searching for proof of injury. Like Felix is something fragile that Dimitri is trying to find the cracks in. 

To make matters worse, his father is still at the castle. Rodrigue is running drills in the training yard with the soldiers he arrived with and he might not say anything directly to Felix when he steps out onto the packed dirt but the pause in his instructions speaks volumes. Felix takes an empty space at the back, focusing on the sword in his hands and not the weight of his father's gaze. He's confident in his sword forms, in his footing, in every movement he makes when there's a blade in his hands. He knows that his father will find no faults but that does nothing to change the fact that he's looking for them all the same. 

"You're too tense," his father tells him, once the drills are over and he's dismissed the other soldiers. 

Felix clicks his tongue. "Not my fault the b—Dimitri keeps watching me like he is. It's annoying." 

"He's glad to have you home," Rodrigue says gently. "But aside from that, your left shoulder and right arm are in pain and I believe Dimitri feels responsible for both of those things. I heard him speaking to Dedue about it earlier this morning, that he's hurt you twice in two days. Dima has always been quick to feel upset by not being able to control his own strength, and he's always felt it tenfold when he's hurt someone he cares about because of it."

"That's his own fault," Felix mutters, looking away. "I didn't ask him to feel bad about it."

"Perhaps you can talk to him." Rodrigue reaches out, as if he's about to pat Felix on the shoulder, but then reconsiders in the last minute. Instead, his hand falls to his side and he simply sighs, "I leave again tomorrow morning. The only reason you would have returned to the Kingdom is because you believe in him. Perhaps it would help if he were to realise that."

Felix doesn't reply. He doesn't know how to; he's never known what to say to his father at the best of times and he certainly has no idea now. As much as it pains him to accept that his father might be right about anything, he finds himself walking over to where he last saw Dimitri. As much as he hates having to talk to Dimitri, he hates this even more. He'll swallow his pride and speak to Dimitri if he has to, especially if it means putting an end to that guilty, wounded expression Dimitri keeps giving him, as if _he's_ the one in pain. 

He finds Dimitri in one of the courtyards, speaking with Dedue. They're clearly in the middle of a conversation but Felix pays no heed, approaching Dimitri with a scowl until they both fall silent.

"Felix—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking another step closer to Dimitri, "because I'm only going to say this once."

Dimitri stands his ground, nodding gratefully at Dedue who walks away, then turns his attention to Felix. "I'm listening." 

"It's been five long years," Felix tells him. "Five years, and nothing's broken me before. I'm not going to let _you_ break me. I'm still in one piece. I'm still standing. Don't you dare add me to the list of gravestones that hang around your neck when I'm still here. You didn't kill me. If you want to wallow in your misery, do it where I don't have to see. In the meantime, I'll be in the training yard."

Turning on his heel, Felix walks off without stopping to see if his words have sunk in. 

He doesn't need to, when he goes to the training yard that afternoon to find Dimitri already there and waiting. He's carrying a practice spear and he smiles when he sees Felix approaching, so open and calm that for the briefest moment, Felix forgets about the darkness under the surface.

"I hope you don't mind if we stick to training weapons," Dimitri says. 

"Fine." Felix knows it's easier than arguing, and Dimitri will be less likely to let the guilt eat away at him if he lands a hit this way. He puts his swords down and takes a training sword off the rack instead. It's light in his hands but he doesn't mind that. Speed is his forte, especially against bigger opponents like Dimitri. It's a good start.

Their fight starts with the crack of Felix's sword against Dimitri's spear. Dimitri doesn't give up any ground, absorbing the force of the hit and then pushing back against Felix instead, sending him back a step. Dimitri doesn't give him time to gather his bearings or his balance, driving forward with his spear and putting Felix on the defensive. Felix regains his footing and pushes back and just like the last time they sparred they settle into a push and pull, finding themselves evenly matched. 

It's satisfying, to be able to give his all in a fight without it being a life or death situation. Felix can focus on the skill and technique, and the satisfaction of slipping between Dimitri's defences without the desperation of having to survive. This is something he hasn't felt since he was at Garreg Mach, before the war broke out. 

Felix claims a narrow victory, knocking Dimitri's spear across the training yard and sitting on his chest to keep him down. They're both panting heavily and Dimitri's hair is still covering half his face from when he'd fallen. He pushes it back out of his eyes and smiles up at Felix, even more genuine than before. 

"That felt good," Dimitri says, honest in a way that makes Felix feel embarrassed. "You're such a talented swordsman, Felix. It's a pleasure to be able to spar with you."

"You're not half bad yourself." Felix gets up, dusting himself off. 

"I'd like to do this more often," Dimitri says. "If that is alright with you, of course. I will understand if you refuse but—"

"I'll do it," Felix interrupts. His heart is pounding, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back the smile that threatens to curve along his lips at the satisfaction of winning a difficult fight. He wants more. "I'll spar with you again. Assuming you have the time. Your keeper's here to collect you again."

"Not my keeper," Dimitri replies, smiling at Dedue as he approaches. "My friend, is it time already?"

"Almost," Dedue replies. "I thought you might want some warning, so you're not fresh off the training yard."

"He's saying you smell," Felix says with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest.

"Not any more than you do," Dimitri replies. "Would you join our meeting as well, Felix? This is the first war council we've had since you've returned. Perhaps you could lend your experience of the situation. After you no longer smell, of course." 

Felix is clearly still in too good of a mood following their sparring sessions because he doesn't even turn down Dimitri's invitation. He regrets it for a brief moment when he walks into the council room after he's washed off the dirt of the training yard and changed into something less tattered. His father is there, standing beside the archbishop and stops mid-conversation to look up at Felix with surprise upon his arrival. 

Sylvain walks in just a handful of seconds after Felix, hooking an arm around his shoulder and dragging him over to the map spread out across the table in the middle of the room where Ingrid is standing.

"Off," Felix mutters, jabbing his elbow into Sylvain's side.

"Oh, did you _want_ to talk to your father and the archbishop?" Sylvain asks in an undertone. "My bad. Here I was thinking you could give me some information on any Empire soldiers you might have seen on your way here."

Felix tenses up, pressing his lips together. It would be too suspicious to refuse to share any information at all but at the same time, he knows that Hubert has spies in the kingdom and if he so much as suspects that Felix is giving away Empire secrets, the consequences will be dire.

He's spared from answering at all when the door opens again and Dimitri stalks in, his expression stormy and with Dedue at his heels. The room falls silent all at once, everyone standing to attention. Felix knows that whatever news Dimitri has received, it's not good.

"I've received reports from our scouts," he announces to the room, fist still clenched around the letter. "Edelgard and her allies have taken Garreg Mach."

"No." Rhea's expression twists with fury. "She can't have it. I refuse to allow her to desecrate such an important place. It belongs to the Church."

"Lady Rhea," Seteth says patiently at her side. "We know it better than she does. From our most recent reports, she travels with her classmates from the Academy. They're barely more than children. If we were to launch an ambush…"

"That is not all the news I have received," Dimitri says grimly. "There are reports that the Black Eagle Strike Force is accompanied by one other. The description matches our Professor, down to their hair and their demeanour. I… remember Edelgard holding the Professor in high regard. If they truly have returned, I only imagine that she will be emboldened to make her next move."

"Oh," Sylvain says softly. When Felix glances over at him, he's frowning down at the map. He taps a point on the map and swears under his breath.

"The Great Bridge of Myrddin." Felix looks between the map and Sylvain. "You think that's their next target?"

"It makes sense," Sylvain replies. He looks across the table, at Dimitri. "It would make more sense for Edelgard to fracture whatever tentative support the Kingdom has from the Leicester Alliance before turning her attention and armies on us."

"Claude." Dimitri's frown deepens. "If they take Myrddin, they'll set their sights on Derdriu to break the Alliance for good." 

"Claude will have to take care of himself," Sylvain replies. "We have the benefit of time here. We can strengthen our forces. If we had to, we could strengthen our alliances with the Eastern lords who would support the Kingdom anyway."

"That would only weaken the Alliance," Dimitri protests. "If Edelgard is to attack them, they're the ones who will fight back the hardest. They deserve the chance to defend their homes from becoming Empire territory."

Sylvain sighs with resignation and doesn't push. This must be an old argument, and Felix can't help the disappointment that even in a war, Dimitri is still trying too hard to shy away from his natural instincts to destroy everything around him just to stay alive. It's frustrating that he still pretends at being a rational man, when it puts the people around him at risk.

"At the very least," Dimitri says, turning to Rhea, "we can use this opportunity to prepare an ambush on Garreg Mach and reclaim it. Without such a central foothold, perhaps Edelgard's forces can be pushed back."

"It won't be that easy," Felix mutters, and the entire room looks at him. He shrugs. "The last five years have been nothing but a push back and forth between the Empire and the Kingdom. Edelgard probably had her own problems to deal with in the Kingdom. If she's branching out now, she's probably dealt with those other problems. It probably means she has most of the Empire's forces behind her, if not all of it."

"She's the Emperor," Ingrid says. "Of course she would."

Felix scoffs. "Not every knight is willing to die for their leader that easily." 

"What Felix is trying to say," Sylvain says, stepping between them, "…probably has merit, actually. The Empire wasn't in the best shape, politically speaking. With how quickly she claimed the title, she probably had a few things she needed to sort out first. Strengthen the Empire. Weaken the Alliance. Destroy the Kingdom. In that order." 

"You have a good grasp of this, Sylvain," Rodrigue says, rubbing his chin. "I'm sure your father would be pleased to hear about it."

"Me?" Sylvain grins, his expression shuttered at the mention of his father. "Nah. I'm just throwing things out there. No real substance. You know me."

Felix and Ingrid both roll their eyes, their lips twitching into matching grins. The rest of the meeting is focused on preparing the ambush of Garreg Mach but Felix can see that Dimitri isn't entirely engaged in the conversation. Felix grits his teeth with irritation, knowing that he's already counting more gravestones to string around his neck before the battles have even been fought.

When the meeting is finally over, he can't leave the room soon enough. He walks down the hallway, reaching the end before he realises that the steady footsteps behind him are not just the others leaving the room. He's being followed.

"What do you want?" he asks without turning. 

"A word, in private." Dedue falls into step with him then guides him around a corner and into a quieter hallway. "Dimitri may think the world of you but I can see that you're toying with his feelings."

Felix scoffs. "The boar doesn't _have_ feelings." 

Dedue frowns at him. "If you truly believe that, you know nothing of him at all." 

"He doesn't have _those_ feelings," Felix replies. The very thought has his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. "Not for me."

Dedue gives him a pitying look, then turns to leave. "In any case. I ask that you don't give him false hope. The burden on war weighs heavily enough on his heart as it is."

Felix says nothing, watching Dedue walk away as he processes this. The concept of Dimitri bearing any feelings for him leaves him uncomfortable, his skin pricking into goosebumps as it does during particularly cold winters. The shoves the feeling down, locking it firmly away.

He can work with this, he decides. If Dedue is asking him not to take advantage of it, that's simply because Felix _can_ , and so he will. 

By their next sparring session, Felix has a plan. 

It's a simple thing. Dimitri is waiting for him in the training yard the next morning and it's embarrassing watching the way his expression brightens when he sees Felix approaching. It almost makes Felix want to turn on his heel and walk in the opposite direction but that would feel too much like losing a battle, no matter how one-sided it may be. 

_The boar likes me_ , he thinks to himself as they stand opposite each other in the training yard, their weapons ready. He wonders if it should bother him, if he should find it repulsive, the way that he finds everything about the boar repulsive. He's spent most of the night thinking about it, unable to sleep, 

This is the conclusion that he's arrived at: he feels nothing. Not disgust, not discomfort, but nothing. He can see the signs of it now that he knows what to look for but at most, this is nothing more than a convenient fact that he can use for his own gain. He's gotten himself into enough difficult battles to know to take every single advantage he can.

"Shall we?" Dimitri asks, adjusting his grip on his lance.

"Ready when you are."

Felix fights as usual. On some level, he’s been looking forward to this sparring session ever since they finished their last. The few days since he’s arrived in Fhirdiad have been the most peaceful ones he’s experienced in the past five years, not for the fact that he can ignore that the war is going on, but for the fact that none of the battles he's fought have been for his life. It feels like a luxury and it's a strange and uncomfortable thought that he pushes to the back of his mind. Now isn't the time to dwell on it, when Dimitri is demanding his full attention as they fight and Felix needs to do everything that he can to keep up. 

"You don't hold back," Dimitri says, as their weapons clash against each other. He puts his full strength behind his lance and Felix has to dig his heels in just to stop Dimitri from pushing him backwards. Dimitri's eyes are bright and for a moment, Felix can pretend that the version of Dimitri he knew and loved never died that day several years ago. It's an unnecessary thought right now and he refuses to dwell on it. "I like that about you, Felix." 

Felix steps back, hoping to give himself the space he needs to slash at Dimitri again but he doesn't get the chance. Dimitri follows him, shifting his lance to one hand and grabbing for Felix with the other, hand closing around Felix's upper arm and digging into the bruise that still hasn't healed. Felix grunts with pain but Dimitri doesn't stop, not even for a moment. He lifts Felix, leg hooking behind one of Felix's to trip him up, and brings him crashing to the ground.

Dimitri smiles down at him, the staff of his lance pressed against Felix's throat. "Looks like it's my victory today." 

"You don't hold back either," Felix says, once he has the breath for words again. He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his arm. "You fight dirty, King Dimitri." 

Dimitri's smile simply grows wider, and he offers Felix a hand up. "I thought you were complaining the other day that I was too soft? Which is it, Felix?" 

With only a moment's hesitation, Felix takes Dimitri's hand and holds on tightly as he's pulled up. He doesn't let go once he's on his feet but leans closer, lowering his voice for only Dimitri to hear. "Perhaps you _are_ the king this place needs after all." 

Dimitri's surprise shouldn't feel as rewarding as it is, but he stares at Felix with wide eyes. "Do you truly mean that?" 

"Who knows." Felix lets himself smirk, slowly sliding his hand out of Dimitri's grasp only to reach for his shoulder. "Try not to die. I guess we'll find out then."

Dimitri's cheeks are dusted with pink and Felix bites the inside of his cheek just so that his smirk doesn't grow any wider. It's nice to know that his plan is working, that Dimitri is flustered by even this simple of a touch. All Felix needs to do is keep it up and he's certain that Dimitri will drop his guard completely. 

"I need to go," Dimitri says reluctantly, making no effort to move away from Felix's touch. "I have duties that I must attend to. Thank you for taking the time to spar with me this morning. I hope your arm doesn't hurt too much. Promise me you'll see Mercedes if you need to?" 

"If I need to." Felix picks up both of their weapons. "I'll put these away. I'll see you here tomorrow." 

"Yes." Dimitri says it like a promise. "Tomorrow, Felix." 

Felix watches Dimitri walk away, only to find Sylvain walking towards him. He sighs quietly, looking away as he cleans his and Dimitri's practice weapons and puts them away.

"I know what you're trying to do, y'know," Sylvain says, stopping at Felix's side. He leans against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, too casual to mean it. "With His Majesty." 

Felix can't help the way his grip tightens on the practice sword in his hands, but he doesn't look at Sylvain. "Do you really."

Sylvain laughs softly. "It's obvious, Felix. You like him, don't you? You're really bad at flirting though, no offence or anything. It's kind of painful to watch."

Felix does look at Sylvain this time, his eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I get it. Flirting isn't exactly your strong suit and I'm pretty sure Dimitri is at least a little oblivious to that sort of thing but if you want help with it, I'm right here you know." 

"Ah yes," Felix says flatly. "The master of being rejected by people who know better because of his reputation. How could I have forgotten?" 

"At least your reputation isn't as bad." Sylvain grins at him. "Though I guess, if I had to pick the one thing you _do_ have a reputation for, it's being mean. Especially to Dimitri. Probably not the best thing when you're trying to flirt with him." 

"I'm not—" Felix begins, and then stops when Sylvain levels him with a knowing look. He growls under his breath, looking away. "Being told that my reputation is better than yours isn't a compliment, you know." 

Sylvain laughs, patting Felix on the back. "Well, I guess we've established that you're not going to win any hearts by wooing them with your words. At least Dimitri knows you. He wouldn't expect you to start being nice to him out of nowhere and you're not the kind of guy that it comes naturally to anyway. You've always been good at showing people you care about them through their actions. Just stick to that and you'll be fine. Besides, even if you were going a bit overboard with all the touching before, he seemed to like it. Maybe keep doing that? Just dial it back a bit, though. You don't want to be too heavy-handed with this sort of thing. Make him want more. Man, I can't believe I'm giving you advice about this sort of thing."

"I can't believe I'm still listening to you," Felix replies, shrugging Sylvain's hand off. "Anyway, I never said that I liked him. Don't go making assumptions." 

"Sometimes, you don't have to say a thing." Sylvain rubs the back of his neck, looking in the direction Dimitri left. "Sometimes it's just obvious in the way you look at someone. The things you do for them."

"I've never done a single thing for the boar." 

"Keep telling yourself that, if that's what you need. I know you, Felix. I know that you've always been happier on a battlefield that you are behind a strategy table and you probably always will be. You didn't come back to Fhirdiad for your own sake. Not when you've spent the last five years fighting. I can see it in your face, you know. In the way you move when you have a sword in your hands." 

"The war's going on end, one way or another," Felix mutters. "I can't stay on the battlefield forever. Defeats the purpose of fighting."

"Felix," Sylvain says gently. "Ever since we were kids, you've been fighting in one way or another. There'll always be battles to fight and you'll always find them. I think that at least, you should stop fighting your feelings. You might even be less miserable for it." 

"I'm not miserable," Felix snaps. "I didn't ask for your advice, Sylvain."

"Yeah, yeah." Sylvain sighs. "Just think about it, okay? You could do a lot worse than Dimitri. But hey, if you ever wanted to practice flirting with someone..." 

"No," Felix replies immediately, turning to leave. "We're done talking about this." 

Even as he walks away, Felix realises that he meant it; that he can't imagine doing any of what he's doing with anyone other than Dimitri. 

Of course he wouldn't. This is all just a means to an end. Dimitri is his target. It doesn't matter what he needs to do, as long as it leads him to the end result of killing Dimitri and getting out of Fhirdiad. He has one purpose left in this world, and he won't let anything get in his way.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
On the morning of Dimitri's birthday, a scout report confirms Sylvain's suspicions that Edelgard is marching on the Great Bridge of Myrddin. 

It sets the tone for a solemn war council. With Rodrigue returned to his post at Arianrhod, Felix finds he can breathe a little easier in this room but he has no solutions to provide as Dimitri stands hunched over the map spread out across the table. He won't risk sharing any information he might have on the Black Eagle Strike Force and he has no words of comfort either. This is a war. If anything, Dimitri is lucky that the Alliance is the first target.

It's Sylvain who takes charge, looking reluctant as he does so. Felix knows that he's always been clever, always been one to see through things and pick up on what's happening under the surface. It's not exactly something Felix wants to give him credit for, when it means acknowledging the fact that Sylvain is right about Felix's feelings as well. 

"We'll have a better idea of what we're up against once the Church manages to reclaim Garreg Mach," Sylvain says. "Seteth and Flayn are already making their way over with some forces but they're travelling slowly to avoid any unwanted attention. We won't have any news from them for a while so we'll have to make some educated guesses until then. Arianrhod is still our best point of defense against the Empire but we'll need to consider where else Edelgard will attack." 

"We should also consider what we need to do, should the attempt to take Garreg Mach fails," Dimitri says, not looking up from the map. "If Edelgard is based there, she has access to other parts of the Kingdom that could easily be overpowered. She could clear her way through the Kingdom all the way to Fhirdiad if she had a large enough force. We'll need to protect our western border and, should the Alliance fall, our eastern border as well. We'll be pulled in too many directions to protect our own people." 

"Don't count our losses just yet," Sylvain replies, and Felix is almost surprised at how calm he sounds for someone who doesn't have any solutions, but then he sees the way his hands are balled into tight fists at his sides. "We aren't anywhere close to giving up just yet. No one in this room is ready to give up on the Kingdom just yet." 

That, at least, makes Dimitri look up. The smile that touches his lips is faint but it's there all the same. "You're right, Sylvain. We'll do all that we can." 

The rest of the day feels awkward. It's clear that no one wants to let the day pass without acknowledging that it's Dimitri's birthday but it's even clearer that Dimitri is in no mood to celebrate. Felix can't stand it, even more on edge by the fact that the servant who acts as Hubert's messenger to Felix had greeted him this morning with a message: Felix was pushing his luck, allowing Dimitri long enough to see this birthday and it was his responsibility to make certain that Dimitri would not live long enough to see any others. 

"Boar." He approaches Dimitri after seeing too many people hovering near him without quite knowing what to say to him. "If you're going to spend the day moping around, then we might as well spar." 

Dimitri smiles at him gratefully. "I was hoping you would say that." 

"You're made for the battlefield too," Felix mutters, not looking at Dimitri as they walk side by side to the training yard. "When everything else feels too difficult, at least you have the weight of your weapon in your hands, and all you have to do is stay alive." 

Dimitri hums in thought. "I never would have thought you would admit to us being similar, Felix." 

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Felix simply grunts. "Maybe there are some things I need to stop fighting. Especially when there are bigger battles to prepare for." 

Dimitri says nothing but when Felix glances at him, there's an appraising look in his eyes. Felix can only hope that Sylvain, meddlesome as he is, hasn't given Dimitri any ideas.

"Get ready," Felix says, walking over to the weapons rack so he doesn't need to think any more. "I'm not going easy on you today." 

"You never go easy on me." Dimitri smiles, settling into his stance. "It's why you're my favourite sparring partner." 

He doesn't give Felix the time to process that, immediately going in for an attack. Felix finds himself on the defensive, blocking blows without having the chance to get any of his own in. He can feel all of Dimitri's frustration and helplessness through his attacks, his need to be doing _something_ even if it's just this. He's relentless, pushing Felix back until his back is against one of the stone pillars near the edge of the yard and Dimitri is pushing into his space. Felix has his hand against the flat of his blade to push back but they're still nose to nose and he can feel Dimitri's breath against his mouth. It sends something burning through him and he doesn't know what to do about the way his nerve endings are all alight and he's suddenly too aware of Dimitri against him. 

When their eyes meet, Dimitri's gaze is dark and hungry in a way that Felix has never seen before but recognises all the same. Felix takes a breath and pulls himself together, side-stepping away from Dimitri and taking the opportunity to take control of the momentum of their fight. His focus is shattered but Dimitri's is as well, and it works to Felix's advantage. He wins their fight with his sword held to Dimitri's throat and they both stand frozen in place, panting softly as they stare each other down. 

Dimitri wets his lips, dropping his spear and reaching forward. "Felix—" 

"Shut up." Felix reaches for Dimitri in return, sword clattering to the ground as he buries his fingers in Dimitri's hair and pulls him into a hard kiss. 

For a moment, Dimitri's hands hesitate at Felix's sides like he's unsure of what he's doing. Then Felix nips at his lower lip and Dimitri gasps, kissing him harder, holding Felix against him until they're pressed against each other. Felix bites at Dimitri's lips again, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. Dimitri growls against Felix's mouth, lifting him off the ground entirely. Felix holds on, trusting Dimitri not to drop him and that's a dizzying thought, that he trusts Dimitri at all.

"Boar," he gasps as Dimitri presses him against the wall. Dimitri kisses Felix's jaw and down his neck, his lips and tongue so hot against Felix's skin that it feels as if they're branding him. Felix buries his fingers in Dimitri's hair again, tugging this time and shivering as he feels the scrape of Dimitri's teeth against his neck. "Ah, boar—"

"My name," Dimitri growls, pulling his mouth from Felix's neck and whispering into his ear instead. "Say my name, Felix." 

" _Dimitri_." Felix wraps his legs around Dimitri even tighter. He pulls Dimitri back by his hair, into another rough kiss. When Dimitri steps closer, pressing himself between Felix's legs, the friction is both dizzying and terrifying. 

Felix gasps shakily as reality comes crashing down on him. He pushes at Dimitri's chest with both hands, feeling his face burn. "What are you doing?" 

Dimitri blinks, considering Felix's words for a moment before his face colours. "Felix—did you not want—"

"Of course I didn't want this," Felix lies, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. When he pushes against Dimitri this time, he gets the space that he needs to step away. His heart is pounding so hard that he can feel it through his entire body. It matches the steady throb between his legs. He doesn't turn back to look at Dimitri. He can't. "Why would you think that I'd want you like this, boar?"

"You—" Dimitri sounds hurt. He stops, exhaling slowly through his nose, and when he speaks again his voice is more even. "You kissed me back Felix. When you did, it was like you felt what I did." 

"That was a mistake," Felix snaps and that, at the very least, is the truth. He can't erase the memory of Dimitri's mouth against his, or the way his hands felt holding Felix. He shakes his head hard, keeping his back to Dimitri. "Whatever it is you think I feel, you're imagining it. You're imagining your own feelings too. At the end of the day, you're just a boar who wants nothing more than to kill and destroy. You're not capable of anything more than that and even if you were, I wouldn't want it." 

_Liar_ , he thinks to himself as he flees from the training yard, shutting himself away in his room and locking the door behind him so that nobody else can follow. He sits on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands and his heart continues to pound. It feels like it's never going to stop, no matter how desperately he tries to wrestle his body back under control. _Liar_. 

This isn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to take advantage of Dimitri's feelings, to use them to his own advantage. He feels nothing for the boar, he reminds himself. _Nothing_. He repeats it, over and over in his mind but it refuses to stick. He growls under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He doesn't _want_ to feel anything for Dimitri.

He startles when he hears a knock on his door, glad that he thought to lock it. He doesn't get up from where he is but watches the door carefully, waiting. He's certain that it isn't Dimitri. 

"Hey, Felix?" It's Sylvain instead. "I know you're in there, so there's no point in pretending you're not."

"Go away," Felix replies. "I'm not in the mood."

"Felix," Sylvain tries again. He sighs, loudly enough that Felix can hear it on the other side of the door. "I saw you."

Felix gets to his feet, unlocking the door and opening it just enough for Sylvain. "Inside. Now."

Sylvain shuts the door behind him, leaning against it while Felix paces the length of the room. For a long moment, neither of them say a word until Sylvain clears his throat.

"You know, I was expecting to have to witness a lot more awkward flirting before you got this far," he tells Felix. His smile is unconvincing, falling away into a look of concern. "I thought you would have _wanted_ Dimitri to kiss you. Did he move too fast?"

Felix stops pacing, keeping his back turned to Sylvain, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"If you want me to go, then I will." Sylvain sits in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, resting his chin in his hand. He doesn't look at Felix as he speaks. "I didn't mean to see it, y'know. It's just that at the time, it didn't really look like it was one-sided. Is that the problem here? You're fine with him wanting you but you weren't prepared for how you feel?"

"What do you know?" Felix mutters, irritated. Unfortunately, for someone who has known him for as long as Sylvain has, it's the same as admitting that he's right. He sits back down on the edge of his bed, across the room from Sylvain. "I don't like this feeling."

"Oh, Felix." Sylvain laughs softly. "No one _likes_ this feeling. It eats you up from the inside and never lets you forget that it exists and it _hurts_."

"So what do I do?"

"Face it," Sylvain tells him. "Accept the fact that it exists and do something about it instead of just burying it under everything else."

"Hypocrite."

Sylvain bows his head and laughs. "Yeah. But you've always known to do as I say and not as I do, right? You'll be fine. Give Dimitri some time if you have to but talk to him, sooner rather than later. It's not the end of the world, having feelings for someone."

Felix raises an eyebrow. "Even the boar?"

"He's a good guy, Felix."

"He's dangerous. You can feel it too, can't you? There's something under the surface and someday, it's all going to come out and there'll be nothing we can do to stop it."

"Maybe," Sylvain allows. "But you give me that feeling too. Maybe you'll be good for each other."

"And maybe we'll kill each other." 

"We're fighting a war," Sylvain points out. "Nothing is guaranteed. If you want something, you might as well have it while you still can."

'It's a little uncomfortable, listening to you be so serious."

"Oh, absolutely. I've had enough." Sylvain gets to his feet, stretching leisurely before heading for the door. "Just cut yourself some slack, yeah? Dimitri too."

Dimitri avoids Felix for two days. He isn't in the training yard, he isn't in the dining hall when Felix has his meals, and whenever their paths do happen to cross, he's always in the presence of Dedue and is always suddenly absorbed in conversation. Felix can take a hint. He doesn't push, he doesn't chase Dimitri down, and he keeps to himself. 

They're next forced to be in each other's presence after the fall of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. The Empire forces have claimed control of it and with such a strong foothold in Alliance territory, they don't bother to hide their intentions to march on Derdriu next. 

The bad news then becomes worse: they'd returned to Garreg Mach in between taking the bridge and launching their march on Derdriu. Just long enough to stop Seteth and Flayn's attempts to take back the monastery. They've both disappeared and while the archbishop had been understanding, her fury towards Byleth has only increased since then. 

Dimitri hasn't looked at Felix once for the entire meeting. The others have no doubt noticed but Felix doesn't wait for their questioning looks, staring right ahead of him, across the table to where Dimitri is suddenly very interested in a marker on the map in front of him. 

He doesn't follow Dimitri immediately after the meeting is over, especially not when he has Dedue on his heels. Instead, he waits until he sees Dimitri alone. It's later in the afternoon and Felix is in his room when he sees Dimitri walking alone in the courtyard. He's still there by the time Felix goes down and he looks surprised when he sees Felix walking towards him, his expression then going shuttered as he looks away. 

"Listen to me," Felix tells him, arms folded across his chest when he stops in front of Dimitri. "You're wallowing in your own guilt." 

"Guilt?" Dimitri asks quietly. He huffs out a soft, mirthless laugh. "I don't feel guilty for what happened between us, Felix."

"I'm not talking about us." Felix feels his face growing warm. "I'm talking about the Alliance. About Claude. I know you want to rush to his aid, to stop Edelgard from taking everything from him, the same way she's trying to take everything from you."

Dimitri laughs hollowly. "I don't think that you have any right to tell me how I feel about anything, Felix." 

Felix grabs Dimitri's arm and shakes him, until they're looking at each other. "Listen. Claude will be fine. He's better at taking care of himself than most of the nobility anyway. Stop focusing on all the things you can't do and think about what you _can_. People like Claude… they know how to survive because that's all they've been doing their entire lives. You already know that. I don't need to be the one telling you this."

Dimitri catches Felix's wrist before he can pull it away, holding onto it gently. It's loose enough that Felix could pull away, if he wanted. Felix stays where he is.

"You're right, Felix. Thank you." Dimitri's thumb strokes along the inside of Felix's wrist. "You're good at telling me what I need to hear." 

"I don't know about that." Felix avoids his gaze. "I say a lot of unnecessary things as well. Hurtful things." 

"Perhaps you can be abrupt in your delivery," Dimitri allows, "but you always mean what you say."

"Not always," Felix mutters. "I didn't mean what I said to you in the training yard. About your feelings. Or mine."

"Felix." Dimitri's hand trails up Felix's arm from his wrist to his shoulder, and steps into his space. "This is your chance to walk away. I won't give you another." 

Even though Felix's chest feels tight, he stands his ground. His gaze flicks from Dimitri's eyes to his mouth. "Who said I needed one?"

Dimitri pulls Felix closer and they're nose to nose when they jerk apart to the sound of heavy footfalls and Dedue's breathless shout. "Your Majesty! We've just received word. Derdriu has fallen. The Alliance has collapsed."

For the briefest moment, Felix glimpses the despair and decades of grief locked away behind Dimitri's eyes. Then he blinks, and it's gone. He turns to Dedue, though he holds Felix by the wrist to keep him where he is. 

"What of Claude? Is he dead?"

"There are no reports of his body being found. It is thought that he escaped. Sylvain agrees that this is more likely to be the case." Dedue's eyes linger on Felix's wrist, still in Dimitri's grip, and he clears his throat. "The archbishop wanted to speak with you, to discuss the kingdom's next move."

"Of course." Dimitri turns to Felix, lowering his voice. "I'll find you after my meeting." 

Felix nods without a word, watching as Dimitri walks away. He arches an eyebrow when he sees that Dedue isn't following. "Aren't you joining him?"

"The archbishop made it clear she wished to speak only with him," Dedue replies. "Besides, I wish to speak with you." 

Felix barely holds back from rolling his eyes. "Great."

"I've already asked you once not to toy with His Majesty's feelings," Dedue tells him. "Don't give him false hope. Just the other day, he started telling me of how you were betrothed as children. He doesn't need to be dwelling on these thoughts now, when there's so much more demanding his attention. He is my king but he is also my friend and I will not see him hurt."

With a bitter laugh, Felix shakes his head. "You say you're his friend but there's no point in treating him like a functional person to his face and then worrying about his decisions behind his back. If Dimitri wants to act on our betrothal, that's his choice and not yours. I won't stop him."

Dedue opens his mouth to reply but falls silent. It draws Felix's attention, only to make him realise that Dedue is staring at a point over Felix's shoulder, at someone behind him. Felix feels his heart sink with dread. 

"Felix?" Dimitri's voice comes from behind him, soft and hopeful. 

Turning around, Felix finds Dimitri standing there. Rhea is some distance away, clearly having come to find Dimitri herself. 

"I thought you would be in the archbishop's office," Felix says stiffly. "You weren't meant to hear that."

"Did you mean it?" Dimitri asks, giving Felix a searching look. "Would you really… if I were to ask you…" 

Felix exhales softly. He can see the opportunity right in front of him to achieve what he came here to do. His feelings for Dimitri, Dimitri's feelings for him, none of it matters in the face of what must be done. "I meant it."

Dimitri takes Felix's hands into his, dropping down to one knee. "I can't guarantee our future but I won't waste any more of the time that we do have. Marry me."

"Get up," Felix mumbles, his cheeks burning. "I've never knelt for you, and it's strange to see you doing it for me. I'll marry you as long as you promise not to do that again." 

Dimitri rises to his feet, his smile bright and beautiful. It feels, Felix thinks, like looking directly into the sun. "I promise."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
By nightfall, it seems that all of Faerghus has heard of Dimitri and Felix's engagement. If not all of Faerghus, then certainly all of Fhirdiad. 

The attention makes Felix uncomfortable but worse still is the fact that everyone seems to take it as an excuse to approach him and personally congratulate him. As if it's any of their business. As if he's expected to be happy about it.

"You're getting married to the king, you know," Ingrid tells him at dinner. "That's kind of a big deal. I'm pretty sure half the young maidens in the kingdom have dreamt of marrying him at some point." 

_Did you?_ Felix almost asks, biting his tongue at the last moment. He knows the answer to that, and the associated feelings are not something he's eager to dwell on. 

"I just don't understand why it's such a _happy_ thing," Felix mutters, too conscious of the way Dimitri watches him at his side. "I was promised to him before I was even born. I've always belonged to him, whether I liked it or not." 

Sylvain snorts quietly from across the table. "Because you've always been one to do things just because you should." 

"At the very least, I'm happy," Dimitri says quietly. "I thought for the longest time that you hated me."

"You know Felix," Sylvain laughs, folding his arms and resting them on the table. "He's allergic to showing genuine affection. The more he likes you, the less you'd know it."

"When are you getting married anyway?" Ingrid asks. "I don't imagine there's any such thing as a _good time_ for it when we're at war."

"You're right," Dimitri says, glancing at Felix with a small smile. "I'd like to do it as soon as possible. The archbishop can marry us and all I want is a simple ceremony with the people dearest to us. We can have a proper wedding once the war is over."

He's met with strained smiles, no one wanting to add the qualifier of _if_ they survive the war first. 

"Definitely no time like the present," Sylvain says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He grins at Felix. "Do I get to make a speech?"

"No," both Felix and Dimitri say at the same time. They turn to each other, and Felix feels his chest tighten a little at the smile on Dimitri's face. 

If it's guilt, it has no place in his heart. Felix is already resolved. It doesn't matter how much Dimitri pretends that he's still a person when Felix knows the truth. He's a beast, nothing more. Felix isn't interested in seeing any more in him beyond that. If he needs to be put down in the end, then it's better to be Felix's hand than the Empire's. That's all there is to it.

He means to walk off alone once dinner is over but Dimitri catches up with him, touching his shoulder for attention as if Felix isn't already acutely aware of his presence. 

"Shall I walk you to your room?" 

"You're walking to your own room, which is past mine," Felix replies. "Doesn't really count."

Dimitri huffs out a soft laugh. "Then at least allow me to walk beside you."

Felix raises an eyebrow. "Would I tell the King of Faerghus what he can and can't do, in his own castle?" 

"Yes." Dimitri laughs. He hasn't moved his hand from Felix's shoulder yet and it's warm, even through two layers of clothing. "That's one of the reasons I'm marrying you, Felix."

"One of them."

"Would you like me to list more?" Dimitri asks with frightening sincerity. "I will, if you'd like."

"I wouldn't." Felix warns, his ears suddenly feeling warm. "If you say a single word, the wedding's off." 

Dimitri sighs, making a show of being disappointed even though he doesn't once lose his smile. He moves his hand away, leaving Felix's shoulder feeling cold, and doesn't seem to notice when Felix takes half a step closer to him, seeking more warmth. 

"I was thinking we could invite your father," Dimitri says at length. "To our wedding."

Felix's steps slow. Dimitri matches him, waiting with his face half-turned so that Felix doesn't have to deal with the weight of his gaze. It's so carefully thought out that it makes Felix grit his teeth together with irritation. 

"Arianrhod can't afford his absence," Felix says, quickening his pace. He balls his hands into fists with frustration at the ease with which Dimitri catches up with him. "There's no point in waiting for him." 

"I'm sure we could arrange something. He's such an important part of both of our lives and—"

"He'll understand," Felix interrupts, trying not to keep his tone even. "Holding Arianrhod is important too. Especially now that the Alliance has fallen."

"You are right." Dimitri is silent in thought for a moment before he adds, "I just hope that he would approve."

"He arranged our betrothal before I was ever born," Felix says as they approach his door. "I doubt he would object."

"I never once mentioned our betrothal to you because I did not think you would respond to it well, especially after…" Dimitri trails off, looking down at his hands and flexing them slowly. "I never thought you would like me again. I never imagined you would ever love me."

"I'm yours, aren't I?" Felix looks away. 

"Not until you make the choice for yourself," Dimitri says. He reaches for Felix's hand, his grip firm. "I need to know that you are doing this because you want to, not because you feel that you have to."

"You know the answer to that yourself," Felix replies with a huff.

"And if I wanted to hear you say it?" Dimitri asks, raising an eyebrow with a smile.

"Then you're marrying the wrong person."

"Never." Dimitri lifts Felix's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "There is no other choice I would make. Good night, Felix."

"Is that all you have?" Felix asks. "I'm your fiancé and you'll only kiss my hand?"

Dimitri glances up and down the hall before he looks back to Felix. "If I were to kiss you again, it would hardly be proper for a hall where anyone could see."

"Stop pretending you're _proper_ ," Felix scoffs, turning the handle of his door. "Neither of us are, and you know it. Come inside."

He steps into his room and Dimitri follows him, his gaze dark and hungry, fixed on Felix like a predator about to strike but still holding himself in check. They stare each other down, just past the shut door, and Felix is thrilled to have this kind of control. It's one thing to know that Dimitri wants him. It's another thing entirely to be the one to determine whether he is allowed to express it, and how.

"Kiss me, then," he says, and he's being pulled into Dimitri's arms before the last syllable. 

"Felix," Dimitri sighs, caressing a cheek with one hand, the other resting on Felix's waist. He tips Felix's chin up with a finger, kissing him deeply. His lips are soft and cold from the night air but quick to warm as they kiss, then kiss again.

Dimitri's hands slide to Felix's back, keeping him close. Felix is breathless and dizzy, gasping for air when they pull apart but still greedy for more, burying his fingers in Dimitri's hair and pulling him back in. Dimitri's teeth sink into his lower lip, hard enough to make Felix gasp with the pain. If anything, it encourages Dimitri. He bites again, kissing Felix's jaw, then down to his neck where he bites again. 

"Dimitri." Felix can feel himself trembling and he tilts his head away, though he isn't sure whether he wants to get away or invite more. 

This time, when Dimitri bites his neck he can't hold back the pained grunt. It sends Dimitri scrambling back, his wide sky blue eyes filled with fear just as they were during their first sparring session after Felix returned.

Felix takes a breath. "Listen—"

"I'm sorry," Dimitri cuts him off. He's already backing away towards the door. "Felix, I'm sorry. I'll leave. Good night." 

He slams the door shut behind him and Felix is left standing in his room, hands trembling and the steady throb of pain in his neck matching the way his heartbeat echoes in his head. 

By the next morning, the bite has turned into a bright purple-red mark that stands out against Felix's skin. He scowls at his reflection, tugging the collar of his turtleneck as high as it'll go and then scowling deeper when it still isn't enough to hide the mark entirely. He pulls the hood of his jacket up, hoping that it will do a good enough job of hiding the mark.

He knows that Dimitri notices when they see each other the next morning, from the way his gaze lingers on Felix's neck before he looks away entirely, his face flushing bright red. They don't talk about it as they spar, even when Felix's hood falls back. It keeps drawing Dimitri's attention and Felix takes advantage of the distraction to win their sparring match, disarming Dimitri with grim determination. 

"Does it hurt?" Dimitri asks, as they're putting their weapons away. His hand twitches, like he wants to reach for Felix, even though he doesn't. 

"It's fine." Felix pulls his hood back up, hesitating for a moment before he adds, "I didn't hate it."

He walks away before Dimitri can say anything else. He manages to keep it hidden for the rest of the morning, but the moment he sits down to have lunch, Sylvain takes one look at him from across the table and smirks.

"That looks like a nasty bite, Felix." Sylvain taps the side of his own neck, drawing the attention of everyone sitting around them. "I'm almost jealous. That looks like a good time."

"You're disgusting," Ingrid complains, whacking Sylvain over the head. "Mind your own business."

"If only he could," Felix says between clenched teeth, burning with anger and embarrassment. 

To make matters worse, Dimitri looks just as uncomfortable about the attention. Dedue is frowning and even Ashe is staring openly at Felix, a light blush dusting his own cheeks. 

"Do you need me to fix that up for you?" Mercedes asks with a smile, her fingertips already glowing with magic. 

"Only to shut Sylvain up." Felix tilts his head to the side, noticing the way Dimitri avoids eye contact with him. "It would be great if you could mix some poison into his wine too."

Dimitri is silent for the rest of their meal, enough so that Sylvain apologises to him later. He doesn't apologise to Felix, giving him a wink before wandering off. Felix hangs back, staring Dedue down before he finally leaves Dimitri's side.

"Here I thought I finally got you to stop looking so guilty," Felix mutters, folding his arms across his chest. "How many times do we have to rehash the same conversation?"

"I drew attention to you," Dimitri says miserably, even as he follows Felix out of the dining hall like an oversized puppy. "Sylvain was teasing you and you were clearly uncomfortable with it."

"Of course I was." Felix shrugs. "That's Sylvain's fault for being an asshole, not yours. I'm not blaming you. As for the mark…"

"You said you didn't hate it," Dimitri says softly. He reaches out, stroking the back of his fingers along Felix's neck, where the mark once was. Did you… like it?"

Felix doesn't reply but he can feel his ears burning and the way Dimitri's thumb brushes over the shell of his ear says that he's noticed it too. 

"You'll still marry me, then?" 

This time, Felix turns around to face him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, I just—" Dimitri takes half a step backwards, avoiding Felix's eyes. "I thought—"

"I know you," Felix tells him. "All the annoying things about you. I'm used to you. I know to expect all of this. There isn't a single person out there who knows who you are better than I do, boar. No one else could possibly have you. I wouldn't let them." 

"Felix," Dimitri whispers, soft and reverent.

"Not here," Felix says, his hands against Dimitri's chest to stop him from leaning in for a kiss. "Come on."

He leads Dimitri to a quiet corner of one of the courtyards, hidden behind ornate plants in equally ornate vases. 

Felix remembers a time, when they were younger, that they would come into this courtyard to hide in this very corner and no one would find them, whether it be Sylvain or Ingrid while they were playing hide-and-seek, or their fathers searching for the before an etiquette lesson. 

Dimitri clearly remembers it too, judging from the smile that touches his lips. He presses Felix to the wall, leaning in to whisper against his mouth. "I think I'm too big to hide here, these days." 

"Then pull your head down," Felix tells him, making Dimitri lean down into a kiss. "There."

Dimitri chuckles, his breath warm as it tickles against Felix's skin. "Tonight." 

"Hm?"

"Marry me tonight." Dimitri holds Felix's face in his hands. "I'll arrange it with the archbishop. If we're not waiting for your father, there's no need to wait at all." 

Felix nods, pulling Dimitri into another kiss. "Fine. Tonight it is."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Felix has never once thought about his future enough to even consider the concept of marriage. 

Even as a child, when he liked no one in the world better than he liked Dimitri and he would think of their betrothal, he assumed it would be like most things in Dimitri's life: incredibly formal with very little room for personality or enjoyment. 

Their wedding is anything but. 

The word goes out among their close friends and old classmates and from there, they all band together to decorate one of the gardens so there's space for everyone to gather.

Annette, Dedue and Ashe find an arch to decorate with flowers and leaves; Ingrid and Mercedes take charge of arranging dinner after the wedding, and Sylvain takes charge of Felix.

"I don't need a minder," Felix protests, as Sylvain guides him away from the garden. "Even if I did, I don't see why it has to be you."

"Relax," Sylvain says in a tone that suggests he doesn't actually expect Felix to relax at all. "I just know that you don't like sitting idle but we're not gonna make you help set up your own wedding."

"So you're here to distract me then?" Felix asks. "Are you going to spar with me?"

"There's more to life than sparring, y'know." Sylvain smiles at him. "I promise. I know there's a war happening and we need to keep our skills as sharp as our blades but it's important not to spend every moment of every day dwelling on that."

"Have you tried telling that to the boar?" Felix asks. "I'm sure he's perfectly willing to stop counting graves before they're already filled, just so he can relax with you. The only thing he thinks about is the war, the next battle. We're the same."

"You know," Sylvain says, "a handful of years ago, if anyone dared to say that the two of you were the same, they probably wouldn't have survived."

"Time changes people," Felix mutters. "Or maybe it makes us realise things about ourselves that have always been true."

"Do you love him?" Sylvain asks. 

"What?" Felix's voice is sharp to his own ears and he freezes mid-step, whirling around to scowl at Sylvain. "What kind of question is that?"

He just gets a shrug in reply, casual as ever. "A reasonable one, considering you're getting married in a few hours."

Felix huffs, looking away. "I can't stand him. Just being around him makes me angry. If I knew what was good for me, I'd find somewhere on the opposite end of the continent so I wouldn't have to see him ever again."

"But?" Sylvain prompts. 

"But what?" Felix snaps. "I'm here, aren't I? Even though I've been gone for five years, Sylvain. I could've gone anywhere else in the world, but I came here. To him."

"Yeah," Sylvain says with a soft laugh. "I guess you do love him."

"What would you know?" Felix asks with a scowl. 

"You were never interested in any of the girls back at the Academy. No one, even when I tried to get you to look past your sword long enough to notice them. I guess it's always been Dimitri for you, hasn't it?"

"Do we _have_ to talk about this?"

"Hey, this is your fault." Sylvain nudges him with an elbow. "You guys aren't letting me embarrass you with a speech, so I'm getting it all in now."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Like you ever need a special occasion to be an embarrassment."

"Hey! Aren't people supposed to be nice on their wedding day?" Sylvain stops and blinks. "…Huh. I just realised that you're the first of any of our friends to get married. I can't exactly say that this is how I would have called it."

"I don't expect that when you looked forward to what our adult lives would be like, you would have expected the war either." Felix turns away, walking into the castle. "I wouldn't have expected any of this either." 

"Where are you going?" Sylvain asks, catching up with him.

"This is a wedding, right?" Felix keeps walking. "I figure I should probably wear something other than the same thing I've worn into battle for the past few years." 

"Aww Felix." Sylvain holds a hand to his chest. "You've grown so much."

"Shut up, are you going to help me or are you just going to tease me?" 

"I'm gonna do both," Sylvain says decisively. "It's the least that I deserve, for having to watch you both try to flirt with each other before." 

Felix leads the way past his room and to another, two doors down. Sylvain's steps falter behind him. 

"Felix…" 

"I don't have anything nice," Felix snaps, not looking over his shoulder. "I don't even have the time to buy something. Just come on and help me pick something out." 

Like the door to his own room, this one also has the Fraldarius crest carved into the wood. Felix glares at it, turning the handle and pushing the door open. 

Inside, he's greeted with the same Fraldarius blue hangings as his own room. The layout is much the same and Felix can see the signs of its recent use in the chair that hasn't been pushed all the way in at the desk and the window that's cracked open just a little, the way his father has always preferred. 

He takes a breath, then walks over to the closet at the end of the room. There are several clothes hanging there, ready for whenever his father happens to stop by Fhirdiad, ranging from casual robes to formal suits. All of them bear the Fraldarius crest, either in the embroidery or in the weave of the fabric itself. Felix sets his jaw, reaching for one of the more formal outfits. 

"That looks nice," Sylvain says, when Felix pulls it out of the closet. "It doesn't look too different to what you'd normally wear. Just without the armoured parts, I guess."

There are other suits that are thinner and less practical, made with the intention of their wearer staying indoors in the warmth. Felix knows he'll need something thicker for a wedding in the garden, and the material of the one he's holding is thick enough to promise warmth. It has a coat that comes down to his knees, fastening over a shirt with a high collar. The cape is a short one, reaching down to the small of his back. 

"Will it fit?" Felix asks, holding it against himself.

"One way to find out," Sylvain tells him. "As long as this coat does, it should be fine. You could always just wear your own shirt underneath." 

Felix hums in thought, putting the clothes down on the bed and unfastening his own cape. 

"Goddess— _Felix_! What are you doing?" 

Felix frowns at Sylvain, already halfway undressed. "You told me to try it on." 

"You're getting married to the king," Sylvain scolds him. "You realise you're going to have to think about how other people perceive you from now on, right?" 

Felix snorts. "If he wanted to marry someone who cared about that sort of thing, he should have married someone else."

"I don't think there's anyone else he would have married," Sylvain says, so seriously that it makes Felix feel a little uncomfortable. "Besides, even if he doesn't mind it, that doesn't mean you can just do whatever you want. He's the king but there's so much more work to be done to make sure that Faerghus thrives after all of this is over. We can't give any of the lords any reason to take issue with him, and they'll blame him for anything that they don't like about you." 

"You're assuming that he'll win the war."

"Of course I am," Sylvain says, almost angry this time. "I _have to_. We all do, Felix. There's no other way we're getting through this except for believing that this is all going to be worth it. The lives we've lost, the lives we're going to lose, they all need to count for something." 

Felix says nothing. Sylvain sighs, walking over to the bed and unbuttoning the coat before bringing it over for Felix. 

"You're going to be the king's consort," Sylvain tells him, taking a step back as Felix buttons the coat up. "I know it's just a title and it doesn't matter to you, and I know Dimitri will never ask you to care about something like it, but just think about what it's going to mean for him. For the kingdom. You don't want to make his life any more difficult than it needs to be."

Felix hums noncommittally, brushing his hands down the coat once he's fastened it all the way to his throat. "Does this fit?"

There's a mirror leaning against the wall and Felix walks towards it, humming in thought as he looks at his reflection critically. 

"It's a little big," Sylvain says, pinching the material between his fingers and pulling it together behind Felix. "This looks better. I'll find someone to help us pin it back for tonight." 

Felix nods, unable to shake the feeling that he's playing dress-up in his father's clothing the way he once did with Glenn when they were boys. When he turns around, Sylvain is already half way out of the door.

"Sylvain?" he calls, waiting for Sylvain to stop and look at him. "…Thanks for this, I guess." 

He gets a lopsided grin in reply and a shallow bow. "Whatever you need, your highness." 

"Don't you dare," Felix says, but the door is already closing behind Sylvain. He sighs, turning back to the mirror and tries to get used to the sight of him in his father's clothing. 

The door opens a moment later, and Felix turns with surprise. "That was quick—"

It isn't Sylvain. Hubert's messenger walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

"What do you want?" Felix asks with a frown. "I'm busy." 

"My master just wishes to pass along his congratulations," the servant says, and Felix's frown deepens at the thought of word reaching Hubert so quickly. "He has a wedding gift for you, and some instructions." 

Felix watches warily as the servant pulls a sheathed dagger from an inner pocket, presenting it with both hands. It's clearly Adrestian in design but the pommel of it has a Fraldarius crest inlaid in red and gold, looking all wrong in Imperial colours.

"You'd better be careful not to let anyone catch you with this," the servant smiles. "This dagger, in these colours? I'm sure you can imagine what they will assume about you." 

Felix snatches it from the servant's hands, keeping it out of sight under his coat. "You said you had instructions." 

"My master believes you've made your work easy enough now. He expects results soon." The servant bows, rising with a mocking smile. "Of course, please enjoy your wedding first. It would be a shame to ruin such a happy occasion." 

The servant leaves just as Sylvain returns with some pins. He walks over to Felix, glancing at the door questioningly.

"One of the servants who helped me settle in after I returned," Felix says before Sylvain can ask. "He just happened to walk in here. Because he heard someone in here. That's all. I thought you were bringing someone with you." 

"I have pins and instructions to follow," Sylvain replies, pulling the extra material of Felix's coat back again. "Just do what I say, and no one gets stabbed." 

"Yeah," Felix says quietly, all too aware of the weight of the dagger at his hip. "Sure."  
  
  
  
  
  
The wedding starts just after sunset, when there's just enough sunlight to streak the sky with pinks and oranges and purples. Sylvain hasn't let Felix anywhere near the garden all afternoon and now, as they approach, he's amazed by just how much his friends have managed to transform the place. 

Previously, it was just a bare stretch of grass lined with flowers for people to sit on to enjoy the sunlight on the warmer days. Now, it's a square lined with potted plants that must have been carried over from the other gardens. Someone has sourced a carpet runner to roll out down the centre to make an aisle and everyone is standing on either side of it, facing the arch that has been woven through with so many flowers that Felix can't even see the original structure under all its decoration. 

There's a string quartet, playing soft music that comes to a halt as Felix arrives, bringing all the murmured conversation to an abrupt halt. In the silence that follows, Felix meets Dimitri's eyes and time seems to stop.

Dimitri is dressed in a white suit with blue accents, his long hair pulled back into a half-ponytail. He has a deep blue cape that sits over one shoulder, the same colour of his eyes, the same colour of the clearest lake on a winter's day. Felix finds that he can't look away, can't even remember that he's meant to do anything but stand and stare until Sylvain gives him a gentle nudge and he realises that the music has started up again. 

His feet carry him forward, one step after another until he's standing beside Dimitri. He can't look anywhere else—not at their friends who are watching, not even at the archbishop as she begins speaking. Dimitri's smile strikes him all the way down to the bone and he can feel his hands trembling. He doesn't know what to do with them and he's glad when the archbishop directs them to take each other's hands, just so he has something to focus on even if that thing happens to be the way Dimitri's hands are so comfortingly warm despite the cooling night air. 

As the sun finally slips past the horizon, taking the light with it, the garden lights up with magic. Felix looks away from Dimitri for the first time to see Annette and Mercedes releasing balls of light that hang in the air, shining bright enough that they can all see each other. Felix looks back to Dimitri to find him taking the scene in with equal awe. It makes Felix's chest feel tight and he squeezes Dimitri's hands in his own until they're looking at each other again.

Dimitri produces a pair of rings from his pocket, handing one to Felix. The archbishop guides them to slide the rings onto each other's fingers and Felix is relieved that there are no vows when he knows that he can't handle them right now. He can barely hear anything beyond the pounding of his own blood in his ears, missing Rhea's cue for them to kiss until Dimitri is leaning in, hands sliding to Felix's elbows as he presses a feather-light kiss to his lips.

It isn't enough. Felix feels the thought burn its way through him and he almost chases Dimitri's lips as they pull apart. Dimitri smiles at him, soft and genuinely happy in a way that makes his eyes shine. He takes Felix's hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. 

"That's all?" Felix teases, a smile curving along his lips. "Even when I'm your husband?"

"My husband," Dimitri repeats, low and pleased. He leans in, his breath so warm against Felix's ear that it makes him shiver. "I'll save the rest for later." 

Felix grabs a fistful of Dimitri's cape, keeping him right where he is for just a moment longer. "I'll be waiting."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
There's a break between the wedding ceremony and the reception. Felix doesn't know what to do with himself but he has Dimitri's hand resting on his back, guiding him back into the castle where a group of servants is waiting for them.

"We're being ambushed," Felix mutters under his breath.

Dimitri chuckles, his hand sliding around to Felix's shoulder. He squeezes gently and leans in to whisper, "I'm afraid they're here to make us presentable for the reception. It's our first time being introduced as husbands. There are royal traditions."

"If I'd known there would be royal traditions when marrying the king, maybe I would have reconsidered your proposal," Felix says, as the word _husbands_ rings through his head. He turns to Dimitri but looking at that radiant smile makes his heart thud too violently in his chest for him to bear it. He turns his gaze to the waiting servants instead and injects as much boredom into his voice as he can, just to keep it steady. "Fine, let's get this over with."

Dimitri leads the way to their quarters, his hand on Felix's shoulder the entire way. They part at Felix's door but not without Dimitri taking his hand and pressing another kiss to his knuckles.

"Again?" Felix raises an eyebrow. "Kiss me properly, you coward."

"Not now," Dimitri replies, brushing his thumb over Felix's fingers. "Not here. Not when I know that I won't stop."

Felix's heart thuds in his chest again and he pulls his hand away without another word, fleeing for the refuge of his room. He stops short when he finds a mannequin set up in the middle of the room, draped in a cloak trimmed with fur and lined with Fraldarius teal. There's also an open box sitting on Felix's bed with a gold circlet, inlaid with sapphires and diamonds. The ceremony of it all makes Felix's skin crawl.

"Would you like help?" one of the servants offers, unfastening the cloak from the mannequin. 

Felix nods at her without a word, stepping closer so she can fasten the cloak around his shoulders. He sighs when she steps away. "Do I really have to wear that on my head?"

She smiles at him. "You _are_ the king's husband. It's tradition. I'm sure it's just for the night."

Heaving another sigh, Felix hums in agreement. He steps towards the bed resting on his box and picks up the circlet sitting inside. It feels delicate in his hands and he can feel his fingers trembling as he lifts it onto his own head. The servant holds up a mirror for him to look and he scoffs at his own reflection.

"I look like an idiot."

"You look like the king's husband." 

"That's what I said," Felix replies, putting the mirror down and walking to the door, to meet Dimitri, to walk back down to greet all their friends as husbands. His chest feels tight and he can feel the weight of the Adrestian dagger hidden beneath his jacket. "Can I have a moment to myself before I go back out there?"

The servant smiles at him. "I'll be just outside your door, whenever you're ready." 

Felix waits until he's alone before he walks over to his closet, opening both doors and kneeling down to reach for the boxes stacked in the very back corner. He remembers travelling to Fhirdiad as a boy with his father and brother, new clothes packed neatly into boxes to replace the ones he'd outgrown since he last visited. The boxes are still there, filled with old trinkets that Felix once collected when he'd play in the castle grounds with Dimitri, or when they went beyond the walls for excursions. There are rocks and feathers and shells, and Felix slides the dagger out of its hiding place beneath his jacket to hide it amongst them, shutting the lid and shoving it back where it has sat untouched for all these years. 

With a deep breath, Felix straightens his clothes up and steps outside. Dimitri isn't there yet. Felix folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall with a frown as the servant turns to him.

"What's taking him so long?" 

"He'll be out soon, I'm sure." She smiles at him. "I'm sure it'll be worth the wait."

Felix is about to scoff, unsure of how anything could be worth the wait, when Dimitri's door finally opens.

Felix feels his mouth go dry. He doesn't know what he was expecting Dimitri to change into but it isn't this, his black armour traded for one that shines silver, the lack of scuff marks on it making it clear that it hasn't seen the battlefield. His cape is royal Blaiddyd blue on the outside but the inside is patterned with his Crest, just as the breastplate of his armour is. Felix doesn't know where to look; Dimitri's hair has been pulled back out of his face again, while the strands that are too short to reach back into his half-ponytail frame his face. There's a circlet perched on his head that is more ornate than the one that Felix is wearing, with a thicker band of gold and bigger sapphires set in it. 

Of all the things Felix can say, he can only come up with, "Your pants." 

Dimitri smiles at Felix, glancing down at them before meeting his eyes again. They stand out from the rest of his outfit, in their Fraldarius teal. "You're my husband. I never thought of our betrothal—or our marriage—as you leaving your family to join mine. I wanted to include your family's colours into my own clothing. I can see that the clothing they picked out for you does the same." 

Felix doesn't know what to say, so he just grunts in reply. Dimitri's hands are bare; Felix is certain that there are gauntlets that he would usually wear but for now, the only thing he has adorning his hands is the single golden ring sitting on his finger. Felix looks at it for what feels like an eternity, then turns away entirely, looking down the hall. 

"Come on. We've taken enough time. We're keeping everyone else waiting and the longer we give Sylvain to think of something completely stupid to do, the more likely he is to think of something embarrassing and I'm not willing to take that risk."

"I am," Dimitri replies, though he falls into step with Felix. He brushes his fingers against Felix's and gives him a secretive smile. "If I means that I can spend a moment longer with my husband." 

"You keep saying that word," Felix mutters, shaking his head even though he allows Dimitri to twine their fingers together as they walk. "It's embarrassing." 

"Is it?" Dimitri is clearly trying to keep the smile off his face but he's just as clearly failing at it. "If you say so, my husband."

Felix is certain that his ears are burning bright red by the time they reach the hall they're holding their reception in. They wait outside the closed doors for a moment as all their guests are called to order and sat down at their tables, and Dimitri turns to Felix, taking both hands into his this time and frowning at him. 

"Does this bother you?" he asks seriously. His thumbs rub soothing circles over the backs of Felix's hands. "I remember that you used to enjoy parties when we were young but that feels like an entire lifetime ago. Ever since—well. I haven't seen you enjoy a party in years, Felix. I confess that I will take much pleasure in reintroducing myself to our dearest friends as your husband but if you feel that this is too much, if you would rather leave…"

Felix scoffs, gripping Dimitri's hands back even tighter. He hates this version of Dimitri, the kind and caring one who would inconvenience himself just to make someone else happy. He hates it, not the same way he hates Dimitri the Boar but in an entirely new and distressing way because at least he knows what to do with the anger and the bitterness. He doesn't know how to respond when it feels that Dimitri's sincerity is going to crack his heart open and let it bleed out at their feet. 

"I'm not afraid of a crowd." Felix turns to look at the door. "Everyone's waiting for us there. Do you mean to tell me that if I said the word, we'd leave right now and our reception just wouldn't happen at all?"

"If that's what you prefer," Dimitri replies evenly. "We will only have one wedding day, Felix. I would rather you spend it in a way that you enjoy."

"What happened to your royal traditions?" 

"They are important," Dimitri allows. "But you are more important to me." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Felix says, standing his ground. He hasn't come this far to turn and hide just because he has everyone's attention. If that's what he wanted to do, he would have turned on his heel and walked away the moment his friends noticed that he'd arrived in Fhirdiad. There is more to do, and Felix knows that there's no way back. He might as well face everything head on. "We're doing this. Together." 

The doors open for them and Felix pulls Dimitri along. "Let's go."

Their wedding dinner isn't nearly as terrible as Felix expects it to be. It's just as small as their wedding, with only their close friends and allies present. Dimitri and Felix take their place in the middle of the long dining table and their friends surround them, Dedue on Dimitri's side and Sylvain on Felix's. 

Sylvain has already started drinking and he claps Felix on the shoulder when he sits down. "Look at you, all decked out like a proper royal and everything."

"Shut up," Felix mutters, shrugging Sylvain's hand off. "It's not a big deal."

Except it is, and Sylvain clearly knows it. He looks at Felix silently, in his annoying and probing way, and then nods to himself. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You look good, side by side. You're a good match for him, you know."

"What do you know about matches?" Felix asks, shaking his head. "Ones that last, anyway."

"Okay, ouch," Sylvain laughs. "Be like that, then. See if I apologise when there's a rush of suitors eager to heal His Majesty's heart after you've broken it." 

"Sylvain," Ingrid scolds, jostling him from his other side. She rolls her eyes, leaning forward so that she can look at Felix. "Just ignore him. He's already had too much. I'll cut him off." 

"I'm just offended at the assumption that it's Felix who would break my heart and not the other way around," Dimitri speaks up, leaning into Felix's side to join the conversation. "We both know Felix is the type of person who is serious about what he commits himself to. Or whom, I hope." 

"Yes, yes," Felix mutters, mostly under his breath for Dimitri to hear. "I did come back to your side after five years, didn't I? I'm yours." 

Dimitri smiles, placing his hand over Felix's, palm pressed against the ring on Felix's finger. "As I'm yours. I spent those five years believing you would come back to my side, after all." 

Felix thinks of the Adrestian dagger sitting hidden in his room and reaches for his cup of wine. "Husbands, huh." 

It's the first time he's said the word himself and there's a certain weight to it that he feels all the way down to his stomach. It's alleviated by the way Dimitri smiles at him, bright and radiant like the sun itself. It's a sight that Felix can't look at for too long, lest he hurt himself with it. 

"Husbands," Dimitri replies, clinking their cups together before taking a long sip of his own wine. 

The rest of the dinner isn't as bad as Felix expects it to be. There are no grand speeches, none of the formality that Felix expected after having to change into his new clothes. It would feel like nothing more than a dinner with his friends if not for the weight of the gold band on his finger, or the circlet sitting on his head. He doesn't want to think of all the things that this is going to change come tomorrow, he doesn't want to think of the reason behind why all his friends look over at him when he speaks with Dimitri, he doesn't want to think too hard about any of this.

It's all temporary, after all. He's only going to be Dimitri's husband until Dimitri is dead. It doesn't matter what happens before then, just as it doesn't matter what happens afterwards. He has one objective, his entire life boiled down to one moment. All that comes now are the details of how he'll do it and when. Tonight is too obvious but from tomorrow, he knows that he will be running out of time, that Hubert will start growing impatient for news. Felix might not be the easiest person to interact with but even he finds Hubert downright unpleasant. He doesn't want to know what will come once Hubert loses his patience. 

Once the food has been cleared from the tables and everyone has had enough time to sit down, Dimitri gets to his feet and clears his throat. 

"Let me guess," Felix says dryly as he looks at the hand that Dimitri is offering him. "Royal tradition?" 

"Every wedding needs a first dance," Dimitri replies, pulling Felix to his feet. "I imagine we've both had enough training for it. Just one dance."

Felix sighs heavily, letting Dimitri guide him to the open floor, a little distance from all the tables. They stand facing each other as the music and chatter stops, and the musicians start playing something softer and slower. "Just one." 

Dimitri is right; they've had this sort of thing drilled into them from when they were boys. Besides, the footwork for dancing has never felt all that different to the footwork for swordplay and Felix has used that to his advantage many times over the years.

"You know," Dimitri says softly as they dance, leaning in to speak against Felix's ear, "I remember back when we were at the Academy and you were our representative for the White Heron Cup." 

Felix keeps dancing, even though his heart stutters at the memory of the time he spent under Manuela's instruction, learning to take his efficient footwork from a sword fight and turn it into something more sensual. 

"I don't remember you watching." Felix likes to think that he doesn't remember much of Dimitri from then but he knows the truth, that he's always been all too aware of Dimitri's presence, of his attention. He's just never remembered it being turned to him the way it is now.

"I was," Dimitri's grip on Felix tightens, just a fraction. "How could I not, Felix?" 

"So even then," Felix manages to say. "You were…" 

He trails off, hoping that Dimitri will fill in the gaps. Dimitri simply smiles. "Yes I was. And you were beautiful." 

"Am I meant to be happy about that?" Felix presses his face into Dimitri's shoulder. "That's embarrassing." 

"But you were." Dimitri's hand slides from Felix's waist and up his back, until his fingers are in Felix's hair and they're looking at each other. "You are."

Felix looks away, knowing that his face is turning red. "Is this why you wanted to dance? To embarrass me in front of everyone?"

"That was not my intention at all," Dimitri tells him. "But I must say, I am not complaining about having the opportunity to praise you without letting you escape and deny it."

"I'm denying it." Felix tightens his grip on Dimitri's hand and shoulder in warning. "Don't think I'll hesitate to throw you just because you're the king."

"And your husband." Dimitri smiles at him adoringly. "I'd like to see you try, though."

"You're infuriating," Felix says, and they keep dancing.

Felix doesn't know what to say, or how to process the fact that Dimitri has held onto these feelings for him for so many years. He doesn't want to think too hard about it, afraid that once he starts he'll be unable to stop. 

"I want to dance with my husband in front of all of our friends," Dimitri tells him, his hand sliding back down around Felix's waist. "It's not my intention to make you feel like I'm mocking you, or that I want to hold you captive in front of all of these people."

"I know that," Felix replies. "You've given me enough opportunities to escape tonight as it is. I think you need to remember that I'm still here. I haven't run away yet. You're not going to scare me away." 

Not this time, Felix thinks to himself. Not the way he couldn't stand to look at Dimitri after that battle so many years ago, when he convinced himself that Dimitri was dead, that something crueller had taken his place. 

He knows better than that, now. The same way he knows that he's still the same person he was all those years ago, so is Dimitri. No matter the changes, no matter what they've experienced and what they've gone through and the things they've told themselves in an effort to just get through one day and to the next; they're still the same people they always were. 

"Careful, Felix." Dimitri spins him, and they end up back in each other's arms. "You might make me think you actually like me."

"I can't have that now, can I?" Felix raises an eyebrow at Dimitri, hearing the music swell as it reaches the end of the piece. He lets Dimitri spin him again and they're even closer this time when they come back together. One last spin, and the dance ends with their arms around each other, the hall silent as the music ends. Felix finds that he can't look away from Dimitri. He can't even spare a single thought for the rest of the people still sitting in the hall, watching them. His thoughts begin and end with the fact that he can feel Dimitri's hands on him, that Dimitri's breath is fanning across his lips, that their eyes are locked and Felix can't find it in himself to look away. 

"Felix," Dimitri whispers, leaning in to close the gap with a kiss. It's brief but that doesn't matter. It still carries all the weight of Dimitri's love, of what tonight means for him, for them. 

There's little Felix can do in reply but to cling to him and kiss back, until they pull apart to the sound of their friends clapping and whooping. Felix stays where he is in Dimitri's arms. His friends have already watched him marry Dimitri today, surely one more kiss won't make a difference. 

The rest of the reception passes in a blur. He's certain that he spends the night walking around with Dimitri to speak to everyone there but by the end of the night, he can't remember a single conversation. He's tired and when people start leaving to turn in for the night, he can't help but feel grateful for it. 

Soon enough, it's only him and Dimitri left in the hall. Dimitri leans tiredly into Felix's side, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Thank you," Dimitri murmurs into Felix's hair before kissing it. "I think everyone needed this. There have been so few occasions for celebration these days. It must have been wearing them all down. Even if it was just one night, I'm certain it will make a difference." 

"Is that why you wanted to get married so soon?"

"Please don't misunderstand," Dimitri says. "I wanted to be married to you as soon as possible because I had no intention of letting another day pass without making it clear that my heart is yours. Anything else was simply a bonus." 

"Ah." Felix leans into Dimitri's side. "You're thinking like a king." 

"I try." Dimitri offers him an arm. "Shall we return to our quarters?" 

Felix links their arms together, enjoying the warmth of being pressed against Dimitri as they walk. They reach the residential wing and as they reach Felix's door, Dimitri starts to hesitate. By the time Felix has his door open, it's clear that Dimitri wants to say something.

"What's the matter?" 

"I was wondering if you would like to, ah, join me in my room tonight," Dimitri says at last, his face pink with the effort. 

Felix leans back against his door, arms folded across his chest, and arches an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"It's our wedding night." Dimitri looks at him helplessly, as if that should explain enough. When Felix looks at him blankly, he swallows hard and continues. "You know what happens on wedding nights."

"How would I?" Felix asks, deliberately obtuse for the way it makes Dimitri squirm. "This is my first wedding night."

"Your only wedding night." Dimitri's voice drops until it's deeper, almost a growl, and that alone makes Felix want to follow him to his room after all. 

Felix takes a deep breath, then exhales. "Okay." 

Dimitri hesitates "Okay?" 

"Let's go," Felix says, shutting his door again. "Lead the way. Before I change my mind."

Dimitri swallows hard and nods, offering his hand to Felix. When Felix takes it, he can't help but marvel at the difference in size between their hands. Dimitri doesn't let go, until they're in his bedroom with the door shut behind them. He takes his circlet off, placing it aside on the table. He does the same for Felix, his hands trembling.

Felix exhales softly at the realisation that Dimitri is nervous. 

He steps forward, closing the distance between them. Dimitri’s hands circle his waist and Felix lifts himself up onto his toes. He splays his hands out across the chest plate of Dimitri’s armour, covering the Crest of Blaiddyd with his fingers as he touches their foreheads together. 

“Kiss me,” Felix tells him. “At least that much won’t feel new.”

“Have you done this before?” Dimitri asks, his voice caught somewhere between uncertainty and possessiveness. 

Felix doesn’t reply. He’s never been interested in taking another person to bed, or so he thought until those five years he spent killing for the Empire. It didn’t happen regularly but still often enough that in retrospect, Felix can see the pattern he’d spent so long not wanting to acknowledge. 

It was always with men bigger than him, most of whom thought they were stronger than him until he’d pin them to the thin mattress of whichever inn he’d ended up at the time, riding them until they were spent. They were always blond, never gentle and never enough. 

Dimitri takes Felix's silence as answer, and the grip on his waist tightens. 

"What's the matter?" Felix scoffs. "Are you jealous?"

"Yes," Dimitri says, so simply that it makes Felix's ears burn with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. It's a selfish thought to have, to want to be the only one to touch you."

“You’re being so polite,” Felix mutters against Dimitri’s mouth, biting into his lower lip and tugging. “When we both know that you’re not. When you know that’s not why I’m here.”

“Felix.” Dimitri’s voice goes low, shaking its way through him. His hands slide up Felix’s back, pulling him into a kiss that’s hard enough to bruise. Felix’s lips feel swollen already but Dimitri kisses him over and over, until they’re both panting softly. Dimitri has Felix pinned against the wall, pressing a knee between his legs. 

“Wait,” Felix says, regretting it when Dimitri takes a step back. He takes a deep breath, trying to wrangle his thoughts back into coherency. “Your armour. If we don’t take it off now, it’s only going to get in the way.”

“Of course.” Dimitri nods, reaching up to undo his pauldrons. 

“Allow me,” Felix says and pushes Dimitri back until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed. 

It’s been years since Felix has been a squire but his fingers remember the motions all the same, undoing the buckles and fastenings. He works his way through all the pieces of Dimitri’s armour, fingers slowing as he realises that it’s been years since he’s helped Dimitri in or out of any armour. Perhaps it’s the all the time that has passed since then, or perhaps it’s the sudden intimacy of it, but Felix feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“Felix?” There’s a soft look in Dimitri’s eyes that tells him he feels it too. It’s still new and strange, to acknowledge these kinds of feelings. To know that he shares them with Dimitri. 

“Who wears a suit of armour to a wedding reception,” Felix mutters, just to have something to say. 

Dimitri laughs, sliding his hand to the nape of Felix’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “Your husband did.”

“My—“ Felix’s ears burn, “— _husband_ is slowing us down. We could both be naked already."

Dimitri turns hesitant then, his fingers loosening their grip on Felix. "I am not certain what to do next. I do not want to disappoint—"

"Stop," Felix interrupts. This alone is more than Felix ever thought he could have but he swallows that thought down. He pulls Dimitri's chest plate off, setting it down on the floor before pushing up on his knees. He takes Dimitri's face in both hands, kissing him hard. "Stop thinking so hard."

"But Felix, what do I—" Dimitri begins, cutting himself off with a low moan as Felix palms the front of his pants. He's already hard and now that Felix is finally touching him, despite the layers of clothing in between, he doesn't want to stop. He feels out the shape of Dimitri's cock, his face burning when he realises its sheer girth. He wants to see, wants to touch properly, but Dimitri is already red-faced and trembling. 

"Clothes off," Felix prompts him, working on the fastenings of the pants as Dimitri wrestles his shirt off him. Felix doesn't dare look, not until he's done with Dimitri's pants and has pulled them all the way off. He exhales then, sitting back on his knees and looking up at Dimitri, sitting on the edge of the bed, naked and flushed and so achingly hard that Felix's cock throbs with sympathy. 

"Are you just going to stare at me?" Dimitri asks, the embarrassment clear in his voice. "Come here."

Felix rises to his feet, stepping between Dimitri's knees. He unfastens his cloak, letting it drop to the floor with much less care than it probably deserves. He undoes his jacket, his shirt, his boots, his pants, his smalls, all with Dimitri's eyes on him. It should be embarrassing, to have someone else pay such close attention as he does this. Instead, Felix can only feel his heart pounding louder in his chest.

When Dimitri reaches for him, Felix straddles his lap and slides one hand between their bodies. He reaches for Dimitri's cock first, wrapping his fingers around it and feeling out the shape of it. Dimitri moans shakily and Felix echoes it, resting their foreheads together as he strokes slowly. 

Dimitri's fingers dig into Felix's sides, just this side of painful. Felix barely manages to bite back his moan, stroking him harder.

"Felix." Dimitri's voice trembles and he tightens his grip. "I do not want this to be over so soon, but…"

"I'm not done with you yet," Felix tells him, burying his free hand in Dimitri's hair and kissing him hard, continuing to stroke him with the other. "Just let go." 

Dimitri shakes apart with a loud moan, coming all over Felix's hand in thick spurts. Felix watches him, committing the sight to memory. It's better than anything he's ever imagined: Dimitri's eyes sliding halfway closed, his lips parted as he pants, and his face flushed. Felix kisses him again, pulling back with a self-satisfied grin. 

"There. Told you that you didn't have to think so hard." 

Dimitri rests one hand on Felix's back, keeping him close. "Let me attend to you." 

Felix catches Dimitri by the wrist, holding it still. "Just sit back and watch." 

Dimitri opens his mouth as if to protest but then he shuts it again and nods. He shifts back on the bed, until he's leaning back against the pillows. Felix leans over to the table by Dimitri's bed, picking up the vial of oil sitting there. He opens it, pouring it over his fingers. 

"Felix—" Dimitri begins, but his words trail off as Felix lifts to his knees, reaching behind himself to tease himself with one slick finger, slowly working it in. 

He focuses on Dimitri's face, pleased at the way he's watching with rapt attention, his gaze flicking between Felix's face and between his legs. He slides two fingers in, curling them gently and letting out a soft moan when they hit that familiar nub that sends waves of pleasure rippling through him. He hears Dimitri echo it softly and he blinks his eyes open, pulling his fingers out and crawling up the bed, until he's kneeling over Dimitri.

"Give me your hand," he says, tipping the oil into it and coating his fingers. He takes Dimitri's hand into his own, guiding it where he wants it. 

"Will this hurt you?" Dimitri asks hesitantly as he sits up. 

"Not if you're careful," Felix replies. "Start with one finger." 

They both moan in unison when Dimitri slides one finger into Felix. His fingers are much thicker and it immediately makes Felix greedy for more. He wants to know how it feels to have two of Dimitri's fingers inside him, or three. 

For now, he starts off slowly. He lets Dimitri slide his finger back and forth, getting used to the feeling of it. Dimitri presses his face against Felix's neck and sighs shakily.

"I can feel the way you're opening around me," Dimitri tells him. He swallows hard. "For me."

"Give me another," Felix urges, pulling Dimitri's finger out entirely and guiding two fingers in this time. 

Most of Felix's experiences with sex have been rough and rushed. Never like this, with Dimitri slowly stretching him open, learning his body in an entirely different way to when they're sparring. Dimitri becomes a little braver when he realises that Felix is enjoying this, speeding up until he's thrusting his fingers into Felix, making him squirm and bite his lip to hold himself from begging for more. 

"Dimitri," he gasps out, gripping his arm. He rests their foreheads together. "One more." 

"You're beautiful," Dimitri says breathlessly, pressing three fingers into Felix. He's watching so closely that Felix should be embarrassed. Instead, he's burning up with how much he wants this, wants _more_.

Dimitri is hard again. Felix reaches for the oil, pouring it onto his cock and stroking. It makes Dimitri shudder with pleasure, pressing kisses along Felix's shoulder as he slides his fingers deeper, in until the last knuckle. 

Pushing Dimitri to lie back, Felix reaches for his cock and guides it into himself. It's bigger than anything he's taken before and he tips his head back with a soft whine that has Dimitri stroking his sides gently. Felix keeps going, until he has Dimitri's full length in him. 

"Oh, Felix," Dimitri gasps, his hands gripping Felix's waist tight enough to leave marks. "This feels so—you feel—" 

Felix grins, rocking his hips and relishing in the broken moan that Dimitri lets out. He starts off slow, just so that he doesn't overwhelm Dimitri. It's enough to see the way Dimitri watches him, his eyes a little unfocused, his expression dazed as Felix rides him. It's slow, it's gentle, and it's nothing like anything Felix has ever allowed himself before. He's never wanted this, with the nameless, faceless men he's taken to bed. He's never wanted this with anyone else in the entire world. He knows that he never will.

"Touch me," Felix says, guiding Dimitri's hand to his cock, squeezing his eyes shut as those thick, slick fingers wrap themselves around him and stroke firmly. He digs his fingers into Dimitri's shoulders, lifting his hips up and then slamming back down onto his cock. "Ah—Dimitri—" 

"Again," Dimitri says, nuzzling against Felix's neck and stroking him harder. He thrusts up experimentally, making Felix moan loudly. "Say my name again." 

Felix buries his fingers into Dimitri's hair, tugging him into a kiss. They're both moving too much to keep their lips together and they end up panting against each other, clinging to each other as they settle into a rhythm. " _Dimitri_." 

"You're doing all of the work yourself," Dimitri realises, holding Felix's hips still. "Allow me, my love. I want this too."

Felix nods once, getting up off Dimitri's lap and lying down on the bed beside him. He reaches over, pulling Dimitri on top of him and spreads his legs to make space for him. 

"Like this?" Dimitri asks, holding one of Felix's thighs up and pressing into him again until he's fully sheathed.

"Yes," Felix gasps, his breath hitching when Dimitri thrusts harder. " _Yes_." 

Dimitri is a quicker study than Felix expects, and perhaps that shouldn't be so surprising when he watches Felix so closely, picking up on every single cue his body gives to learn what he likes, and what to avoid. He presses Felix into the mattress with his own weight, thrusting into him again and again while Felix can only lie there and take it, hands splayed across Dimitri's back and marvelling at the shift of his muscles beneath his flushed skin. Dimitri thrusts hard enough that Felix is pushed up the bed until he's bent in half, legs in the air as Dimitri fucks him with slow, deep thrusts that make Felix feel like he's never going to forget the feeling of Dimitri inside him. It feels ridiculous to have waited this long, when Dimitri fits into him so perfectly. 

When Dimitri takes him in hand again and starts stroking, Felix arches his back with a cry, clutching at the pillow beneath his head. Dimitri doesn't slow down, keeping his pace as he thrusts into Felix and strokes him at the same time, until it's too much to bear. Felix comes with a loud moan, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He feels himself tightening around Dimitri, hears the low, surprised grunt he lets out, and the warmth between his thighs as Dimitri only just manages to pull out. 

"Felix—" he begins, no doubt at the beginning of an apology, but Felix only pulls him into another kiss, holding him close this time and not letting him pull away. 

They stay that way, arms around each other, as they slowly come down from their high, until their breath evens out and Felix realises that they're cuddling. He can't quite find the energy to pull away just yet. 

"That was…" Dimitri trails off with a laugh. "Incredible, Felix. You're incredible." 

"Shut up," Felix grumbles, hiding his smile against Dimitri's shoulder. He wraps his arms around Dimitri's shoulders and holds on a little tighter. "…You weren't bad either." 

Dimitri chuckles, pulling away from Felix with another kiss to his forehead. Felix stretches as he sits up, already pleasantly sore. He finds a towel to wipe them both clean with, then climbs back into bed. 

"Sleep well, my husband," Dimitri murmurs, pulling Felix into his arms and linking their fingers together. 

Felix settles back against him, and does just that.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The next morning, it takes a moment for Felix to remember where he is. It's a feeling he hasn't had for a while since returning to Fhirdiad but when he shifts in bed, he realises that there's an arm slung across his waist. 

The previous night comes back to him in a rush and along with the memories, he realises that his muscles ache in a way that's both new and pleasant. Dimitri is still asleep. Felix can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The thought crosses his mind, that he could sneak out of bed and retrieve a weapon to bury it in Dimitri's chest and just end it here and now. 

Except when Felix shifts again, Dimitri's arm tightens around him and he stirs. He grumbles softly, his nose scrunching up before he yawns, and Felix feels a rush of fondness as he watches. Then Dimitri stretches slowly and opens his eyes, his expression lighting up when he sees Felix beside him.

"Good morning," he greets, shifting closer and pressing a kiss to Felix's forehead. "Did you sleep well?" 

Felix hums, wrapping an arm around Dimitri in turn. "I suppose I did." 

Dimitri sits up in bed, the sheets pooling at his waist. Felix feels his face go warm, despite everything from the previous night. He lies where he is, watching as Dimitri gets out of bed and walks through the room to his closet so he can get dressed. Dimitri glances over his shoulder, equal parts pleased and embarrassed when he finds that he's being watched. 

"Are you going to get dressed?"

Felix accepts the hand that Dimitri offers him, letting it pull him out of bed and onto his feet. The only clothes that he has to put on are the ones he wore here last night, left in a pile on the floor from when Dimitri had undressed him. He pulls the pants and shirt back on, folding the rest so he can take them back to his own room. 

"I was wondering," Dimitri speaks up, "if you would like to move to this room, with me. It would… be more practical, if we were to spend our nights together. I don't imagine it would be very surprising if we did." 

Felix hums in agreement, in too good of a mood to argue. He knows that Dimitri is right, and it will be much easier if he's close to Dimitri at all times. With any luck, the perfect opportunity for him to complete the task he came here to do will just present itself instead of him having to seek it out. 

"I'll move my belongings here this afternoon," Felix replies. "Just let me change."

"Actually…" Dimitri grimaces. "We're expected to sit for a painting this morning. Our first official painting now that we're married."

"Let me guess, royal tradition?" Felix arches an eyebrow. "Even though we're in the middle of a war? They're really going to expect you to take hours out of your day to sit there and let someone paint you?" 

"I've made arrangements so that we can discuss what's needed with the rest of the war council while we're sitting," Dimitri replies. "The painter has agreed to it. It's a necessary adjustment, so that both things can happen. We'll eat breakfast and go meet with the painter." 

"Fine," Felix sighs, reaching for the clothes he'd just folded. "Help me put these on, then." 

The sitting room that the artist has set up in is a comfortably sized room with high windows and plenty of natural light. There are seats already arranged for them and the painter has set up his easel, paints and brushes. Dedue is already standing there waiting with a report and Sylvain is lounging on one of the other seats in the room, one leg crossed over the other as he looks around the room. 

"There they are," he greets, as Felix walks in with Dimitri. "I'd ask if you slept well but I don't think you slept very much." 

"Shut up, Sylvain," Felix mutters, hating that his blush gives him away. 

"We're here to discuss war matters," Dedue says, even though he doesn't make eye contact with either Felix or Dimitri. "Not personal ones." 

Dimitri sits down, gesturing for Felix to join him. "Your report, Dedue?" 

"I've heard back from several scouts that we've sent out. It seems to me that the Empire is taking their time to gather their forces before they launch their attack."

"It means we have time before they come at us," Sylvain says, "but when they hit, they're going to hit us hard. We need to use that time to prepare, if we want any chance of holding up against Edelgard." 

They pause as the painter directs Dimitri and Felix to adjust their positions. 

"We already know where the Empire's likely to attack," Sylvain adds. "We can't afford to sit around and wait for Edelgard to launch her attack. If there's any ground that we can regain, anything that we can do to make it more difficult for her to set her plans into motion, it's worth trying."

"We need to make sure that our soldiers are ready for the big battle, whenever it comes," Dimitri says. "The past five years have been tense but these recent months have been worse, now that we can all see how Edelgard is making her move. Throwing our forces into small skirmishes without an end in sight will only exhaust them. I don't think it will be helpful to us in the long run." 

"Sylvain's right though," Felix speaks up. "We still have to do _something_. We can't just sit around and wait for a big battle." 

"Say that again?" Sylvain asks with a grin. 

Felix sends a rude gesture in his direction instead. "Their supply chains are too well-established to interfere with but they'll be sending scouts into Faerghus so that whenever they do march on us, they'll be prepared. The less information goes back to the Empire about Faerghus, the better. The only advantage you'll have is the fact that this battle will be in your territory. You need to make sure you hold onto that advantage." 

Dedue nods. "His highness makes a good point."

Sylvain snorts. " _Highness_. Hear that, Felix?"

Felix repeats the rude gesture, earning him a frustrated click of the tongue from the painter this time.

"Please. Try to remain as still as possible during the painting," he requests. "I can work with the talking but less so when you're moving." 

The rest of the morning continues with much of the same, with Dedue and Sylvain plotting out ways to drive out any scouts in Kingdom territory while ensuring there's enough time for all the soldiers to rest. For Felix, it's the longest uninterrupted time he's ever spent in Dimitri's company for as long as he can remember. Back at the Academy, he always avoided being in the same room as Dimitri for too long and since he's returned to Fhirdiad, they've only had brief moments together outside of the training yard. 

Dimitri is earnest, in a way that both makes Felix's skin crawl and makes him feel fond. Felix would have expected him to be single-minded in his pursuit for victory, to run everyone ragged until he achieved his goal. Instead, he's clearly trying to take everyone else into consideration. He talks of arranging supplies for their battalions, making sure that even when hunting down scouts and taking watch over their own small territories, everyone is given enough of a rest in between. By the time the painting is over, Felix can't help but feel that the Dimitri sitting beside him is the one that he'd spent so many years mourning when he was younger. 

"You're looking at me strangely," Dimitri says, once the painter has collected his belongings and left them alone in the sitting room.

Felix takes the circlet off his head, looking down at it as he speaks. "You're trying so hard to be a good king." 

Dimitri exhales slowly, reaching for Felix's hand. "And succeeding, I hope. This… doesn't come naturally to me, as much as I wish it did. Sometimes, all I can think of are all the lives that have already been taken, and what I can do to seek revenge on their behalf."

That sounds more like the Dimitri that Felix has grown accustomed to. When he looks up, Dimitri isn't looking at him but at some point in the distance. 

"I could give into those urges and perhaps it would help the dead." Dimitri sighs. "Perhaps it would help them move on, to know that justice has been served. But I know it wouldn't help the living. It wouldn't make me the king that I need to be. For all I know, I may very well be the last king of Faerghus. I will not shame my ancestors by being a selfish one. Marrying you was my one selfish act. I did that for myself. Everything else, I will do for Faerghus until we are free." 

"I can't stand you sometimes." Felix huffs, shaking his head. "Come here." 

He pulls Dimitri into a deep kiss, fingers curling into his hair to keep him close. They part for air but Felix pulls him in again, pressing small kisses to Dimitri's lips until he feels that he can finally breathe around the tightness in his chest. 

"Faerghus needs a king worth fighting for," Felix tells him. "One that has a future outside of this war. I never thought that could be you. For years, all I ever saw in you was that desire for revenge, no matter what the cost. Even if it cost you yourself." 

"And now?" Dimitri asks. "What do you see?" 

"My husband," Felix says, despite the way the word still makes him burn with embarrassment. "The king of Faerghus. A king who will do all that he can to save his kingdom." 

Dimitri smiles. "I will fight for the kingdom's future. For our future. I'm not willing to let go of what we have so easily, Felix. I will not let the Empire take you from me." 

"No." Felix can feel his heart racing as the realisation dawns on him that _this_ is what he wants. Not his dagger through Dimitri's heart, but this: Dimitri's company, and Dimitri's victory. "I won't allow it either."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The realisation that he no longer wants to kill Dimitri takes some time to settle into Felix's bones. It's not something that he can process in a day, even when he moves his belongings into Dimitri's room and leaves the Adrestian dagger behind, hidden its box. 

He makes a habit of retreating to the training yard to think it through, running through drills with his sword to keep himself focused. It's something he thought he wanted for years, something he's fantasised about: putting the wretched boar out of its misery so that it doesn't suffer for any longer, and doesn't bring suffering to those around it. 

It's a thought that's pulled him through all manner of terrible things he's done in the past five years and added heat to every single terrible thing he's said to Dimitri for much longer than that. He should have seen this coming: the realisation that he's become a monster just like Dimitri should have told him enough, that Dimitri never truly went anywhere but was under the surface all along. At least Felix has discovered this now, rather than after killing him. 

Still, it doesn't change the fact that Felix had fallen for the monster that he thought Dimitri was. It's easy to love Dimitri the king, when it's something Felix had known he would do since he was young. Loving Dimitri the monster had been unexpected but perhaps it's nothing new either. Not when Felix could never quite leave Dimitri alone when they were at the Academy and even before, not when it had been like an obsession. 

It means that he's going to forfeit his mission and his place in the Empire. It's an easier decision than he expects and a realisation that sits easily with him, that he'd rather die at Dimitri's side than live having opposed him. 

And to think that this was the same blind loyalty he'd hated for so long. 

"You've been training hard," Ingrid notes, when she joins him in the training yard one afternoon. 

"The Empire is gearing up for a big battle," Felix replies. And now, he intends to stay on the kingdom's side for it. "I can't afford to let my skills weaken. We'll need everything that we have." 

"Do you think we can win?" Ingrid asks. 

"We have to," Felix replies. "I can't think of any other possibility." 

She's silent as she watches him go through another drill. "It feels like you're suddenly much more serious about this. When you first arrived, you were so doubtful that we'd ever be victorious. What changed?"

Felix frowns, sheathing his sword and turning to her. "What do you mean? Nothing's changed." 

Ingrid hums. "Try that on someone else. I know you, Felix. You were resigned to us losing and it's like you've changed your mind. Is it because of Dimitri?"

"What kind of question is that?" Felix turns away. "I'm done here." 

The worst thing is that Ingrid is right, and she probably knows it. Felix wants to survive this war but more than that, he wants Dimitri to survive. He wants Dimitri to have the opportunity to be the king he wants to be. 

The next morning, Felix wakes up with an uncomfortable feeling lodged in his chest. It intensifies when he rolls onto his side and sees Dimitri still sleeping, then again when Dimitri wakes and pulls Felix into his arms. It feels like something stuck in his throat and he can't speak around it, even as Dimitri kisses him, or as they wrap their legs around each other, chasing a quick moment of bliss as they rut against each other and pant against each other's mouths before they start their day. 

It isn't until they're in the private bath attached to Dimitri's room, washing themselves off before getting dressed, that Felix realises what this feeling is: he's _happy_. He enjoys greeting the mornings with Dimitri at his side and he likes the quiet moments they have to themselves, just as he likes watching Dimitri lead a war council, or a training drill, or any other matter of mundane activities that Felix gets to share with him. 

He mulls over the feeling as they hold their next war council. Dedue has gathered reports from their attempts at catching Empire scouts and the progress sounds positive. They've managed to drive out a large number of scouts and have sniffed out spies within their own ranks. Even if they haven't managed to find them all, it's comforting to know that there is less information going to the Empire than what they're hoping for. Dimitri is radiant as he stands at the head of the table, going over their map and adding markers as he listens to more reports. 

"Faerghus is still colder than they'll be used to at this time of the year," Sylvain speaks up. "We can use that to our advantage as well. We know what to expect from the weather here and they won't. A lot of the reports that are coming back are already showing that; we have our soldiers using the cover of rain—or snow in the areas that are still getting it—to sneak up on Adrestian soldiers who don't know how to navigate this place half as well." 

"We have Arianrhod to our west," Dimitri says, tapping on the location on the map, with a marker that stands for Rodrigue. "Our forces there are being led by one of the greatest and more experienced generals that we have. We can trust that Rodrigue will keep our western flank safe. We have intercepted several scouts from the east but there are even more coming from the south, which leads us to believe that if Edelgard does march against us, that's the direction she will be taking. If she is bold enough for it, she could cut a direct line all the way from the monastery to Fhirdiad. We've set up scouts along this route to keep watch and send word if they notice any movement. Edelgard is our target here; she's the driving force behind the Empire and without her, they won't have her direction or her determination. It's her actions that seek to drive us into a corner and if we can stop her, we have a chance of ending this war."

"You make it sound easy," Felix speaks up. The others look up, no doubt expecting him to continue deriding their plan but instead, he smiles across the table at Dimitri. "If anyone would be able to do it, it would be you."

Dimitri smiles in return. "It won't be easy but as long as it's possible, I will try." 

"And we'll be here to support you," Ingrid says. "In any way that we can. If she does march on us, we'll keep everyone else occupied so that you can face off against her and bring her down yourself." 

Felix can sense the hope that's building in everyone's chests, and he can't deny that he can feel it himself. Perhaps they do have a chance, after all. Perhaps Felix can have this one good thing in his life. 

The thought leaves him feeling light as he walks out of the council room. He makes his way to the infirmary, where he's promised his time to Mercedes to help her prepare more bandages and other supplies. As he makes his way down the hall, he slows as he realises that there's someone waiting for him.

It's Hubert's spy. Felix feels a cold dread wash over him at the sight. It's one thing to decide that he isn't following through with his plan to kill Dimitri. It's another thing entirely to assume that Hubert will accept it. 

"You look like you already know what I'm going to say." The spy smiles grimly. "My master has been generous with his time and patience. He does not give these things willingly. I am told that you have one more day. One final chance. If you cannot do what you have promised, you will need to face the consequences."

Felix grits his teeth, reaching for the dagger he has strapped to his thigh, but Mercedes chooses that moment to look out from the infirmary.

"Oh, Felix, is that you? I was hoping you'd be here soon. We have so much to do." 

"Coming," he calls out, tucking his dagger back into its sheath. 

"One final chance," the spy repeats, and then he's gone.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The next morning, Felix wakes to reports that Edelgard is marching to invade Fhirdiad, and the entire city is set into motion. 

It's clear to everyone, soldiers and civilians alike, that this will be the final battle between the Empire and the Kingdom, regardless of which side is victorious. The morning is spent in Dimitri's study, sending word to all of the smaller units currently positioned within less than a day's march of Fhirdiad that they are to return, to fortify the capital's forces. 

By mid-morning, there are reports that all the gates to the city are blocked up by civilians trying to flee for safety. Dedue and Ashe take to the streets to guide people through with minimal incident. Sylvain is in the war council room, strategising with Rhea and the Knight Captains to determine the ideal placement of their forces. Ingrid is meeting with her fellow Falcon Knights to plan their aerial defences. Annette and Mercedes are working on converting the main hall into an infirmary in preparation for the wounded. It leaves Felix with Dimitri, perched on the edge of the desk as Dimitri paces back and forth.

"Getting stuck in your own head won't do you any good," Felix says. "Talk to me."

"I always knew this day would come," Dimitri says. "I just didn't think it would come so soon. I suppose nothing in war happens when people are prepared for it. I wish we had longer than a day to prepare for this."

Felix shakes his head. "Better to get it over with. I know you. Any more time and you'll start counting the dead while they're still living and breathing. They don't deserve that. Neither do you."

Dimitri's pacing comes to a stop in front of Felix. He sighs, stepping closer until he's standing between Felix's knees. 

"Promise me you'll be safe." Dimitri sighs. "I know how skilled you are. I know you've survived this long on your strength and skill. All I ask is for you to survive today and then tomorrow as well. Just one simple request."

"We both know it's not that simple." Felix curls his fingers into the fur of Dimitri's cloak and pulls him close. "But fine. I promise you that when you strike Edelgard down, I'll be there by your side." 

Dimitri smiles, touching their foreheads together. "Thank you for indulging me."

"I'm no Shield of Faerghus but I'll do what I can," Felix replies. "Come on. There's nothing to do here but wait for your messages to reach the soldiers so they can return. Let's go and see if Sylvain and the knights could do with any help."

Felix already knows that they won't, but at the very least, it means that Dimitri is walking around instead of withdrawing into his own terrible thoughts. Sylvain is kind enough to ask for their input with positioning some knights and Felix makes an excuse for them to leave when he realises that Dimitri's mind is wandering again. 

"I'm sorry," Dimitri says, as they leave the room. "I know that you're just trying to keep me occupied. Surely, as a king, there must be more that I can do."

"Your morning has been busy enough," Felix replies. "Besides, everyone is aware that you'll be facing off against Edelgard tomorrow. You have enough on your shoulders as it is."

"I still want to be doing _something_."

"Spar with me, then," Felix says and resolutely does not think about how this might be their last chance. "I'm sure that will keep you busy enough." 

It works for most of the day. They're using practice weapons but the way they fight here is no different to how they would on the battlefield. Dimitri is brimming with determination and it shows in his every move, from the way he attacks to the way he blocks Felix's strikes with the length of his lance.

Felix matches him, fighting with everything he has until it's mid-afternoon and they're drenched in sweat, slumped against a pillar as they pant for breath. 

"You'd better not complain that you're sore tomorrow," Felix says, turning his head to look at Dimitri. When his head slips onto Dimitri's shoulder, he's too tired to pick it back up. He stays there, shutting his eyes and his lungs burn for breath. Just when he thinks that his heart has finally stopped pounding, he feels Dimitri tilt his head into Felix's, nuzzling against him with a tired sigh. 

It's incredibly inconvenient, Felix thinks, that he should discover that he can fall even harder for Dimitri when they're less than half a day away from a battle that might be their very last. 

"No matter what happens tomorrow," Dimitri says in a low rumble that starts in his chest and ends in Felix's. "I want you to know that I am so grateful that you found your way back home. Perhaps it's vain of me to think that you returned to my side but you should know that there has always been a place for you there. Just as there always will be."

"That's gross," Felix replies, lifting his head so he can press his lips firmly to Dimitri's. "Save the grand declarations for after we've won, you fool."

Dimitri laughs, taking Felix's hand into his. "I've already married you in front of all of our friends. I'm not sure I have any grand declarations left."

They're still sitting there, hand in hand, when Sylvain and Dedue approach. They're wearing matching grim expressions and it makes Felix's heart sink before they even open their mouths. He feels Dimitri tense at his side as well, and then both rise to their feet.

"Is something the matter?" Dimitri asks, frowning at both of them.

"We just received word from our advance scouts," Sylvain says, like the words are being pulled out of him. "The Adrestian forces aren't marching for Fhirdiad after all." 

"What?" Dimitri asks, and there's a moment of silence as the words sink in. Felix watches as the realisation dawns on him, at the wretched look on his face and the way he balls his hands into fists at his sides. "…Where are they marching instead?" 

Sylvain looks to Dedue, as if he's reluctant to say. 

"Just spit it out," Felix snaps. "We don't have long. If we can reach there in time—"

"Felix," Sylvain says gently, and the pitying look in his eyes is all the answer he needs, even without his next words. "They're marching on Arianrhod." 

The words echo through Felix's head, so obvious now that they've been spoken. Arianrhod, the Silver Maiden. Their most impenetrable defence, before they spent all day stripping it of any reinforcements that would reach it in time. It's too far west for them to get there before the battle. They're unlikely to make it before the battle even ends. It's going to be a slaughter, the entire force of the Empire against one fortress and at the head of those knights waiting to be slaughtered is none other than Rodrigue. 

Felix steps back, until his shoulders hit the pillar he was sitting against just moments ago. The realisation settling into him is an uncomfortable one. All this time, he's known his father was on the frontlines of the war but it's never felt more real than it does now.

"Felix," Dimitri says, cutting through the sudden fog in his mind and taking both his hands, squeezing gently. "Felix, look at me." 

Dimitri looks more wretched than Felix feels. Felix means to laugh but it catches in his throat and comes out as an ugly, strangled little sound. Between the two of them, Dimitri has always been more prone to feeling the loss of those he's shared his life with. Even though they've had just as much practice as losing their family as each other. 

Funny, Felix thinks. After Glenn died only to have their father sing his praises for it, he promised himself he would never mourn Rodrigue's death. 

"This is my fault," Dimitri says, as if he's expecting it from Felix and is trying to preempt it. "I shouldn't have been so rash. I should have sent faster scouts, so we could track their movements more clearly instead of making assumptions and now Rodrigue—" 

"Stop." Felix peels himself away from the wall, away from Dimitri, and starts walking. When no one follows, he looks over his shoulder and barks, "Boar. War Council. Now." 

It's the first time Felix has used the nickname since they got married and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth but he tries to ignore that. He can feel the back of his eyes burning with despair but he's spent too long telling Dimitri not to mourn people before they are already dead. He refuses to do just that. 

By the time they reach the War Council room, there are already knight captains standing over the map trying to figure out how to redirect reinforcements toward Arianrhod. Even though they're still debating it by the time Felix walks up to the table, he can see it in their eyes; there's no hope for Arianrhod. It's too far away. Anyone that could have reached them in time is already on their way to Fhirdiad. Arianrhod will receive no reinforcements. 

Ingrid bursts into the room, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her Falcon Knight armour only half removed. She looks at Felix, the unspoken question in her eyes, _is it true?_

"There's nothing we can do," Felix says by way of reply. He looks away from her, gripping the edge of the table tightly. "The Empire deceived us." 

"I can fly there," Ingrid insists. "I've spent all day running aerial drills with the rest of the Pegasus and Falcon Knights. If we started now, we could reach Arianrhod—"

"With steeds too exhausted for battle?" Dimitri cuts in loudly. He's standing hunched over the table, his hair spilling into his face. From beside him, Felix can see the emptiness in his eyes. "No. The knights at Arianrhod are already dead. Sending anyone else to their aid will not secure us a victory, it would be as good as killing them ourselves. No one is to leave for Arianrhod. Do you understand?"

Ingrid frowns. "But Rodrigue—" 

" _No one_ ," Dimitri shouts, loud enough that his voice echoes in the room. The knight captains stand a little straighter, trading uneasy looks. Felix feels his heart sink right down into his stomach. 

"Dimitri," Sylvain says, placing a hand on his arm. "Just end this meeting here. We'll make new plans. If they're taking Arianrhod, they're probably coming from the west. We can use that information to our advantage."

Shaking Sylvain's hand off, Dimitri stays where he is. "You can leave." 

"I'm not going to let you spend all night here," Sylvain says with a strained laugh. "Not when you're just going to stand here thinking about what we're going to lose."

"What else do I have to think about?" Dimitri asks, turning to face Sylvain. There's only the smallest height difference between them but Dimitri uses whatever he can to tower over Sylvain until he looks intimidating. "The only thing I can do tonight is count down the hours until a significant portion of our army is slaughtered, knowing that they will all die because of my mistake. My father-in-law will die before I can ever greet him as such. Am I meant to look Felix in the eye and accept that?"

"Boar," Felix snaps, stepping between him and Sylvain. 

Dimitri hesitates, looking at Felix and then at Sylvain. His shoulders slump and he rubs a hand over his face tiredly. 

"I don't know what to do."

"You need to rest," Felix insists. He gives Sylvain a meaningful look. "You're still covered in training yard filth. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll sit in your study together and have dinner there instead of sitting in the dining hall."

"That's probably a wise decision," Dimitri sighs. He leans in, dropping his head on Felix's shoulder. "I truly am sorry, Felix."

It feels awkward to wrap his arms around Dimitri here, with everyone watching them. He scowls over Dimitri's shoulder, at Sylvain and Ingrid because at least they've seen this before even if it has been years since Dimitri has gone to Felix for comfort. "I'm not going to let you take the sole blame for this. You had an entire castle full of people with experience on the battlefield and none of us picked up on this until it was too late." 

Dimitri lets Felix guide him out of the room and to their quarters. One of the servants must have seen them in the training yard because they've had the foresight to heat up some water. Felix undresses both of them and guides Dimitri into the tub first before climbing in after him.

"We won't let the Empire win," Felix says, grabbing a washcloth and starting on Dimitri first. "No matter what we have to do, we'll find a way to win. You've spent this long surviving, Dimitri. Don't you dare think I'm going to let you stop now." 

Dimitri lets out a tired chuckle, leaning forward and pressing his face into the nape of Felix's neck, kissing it. "I wouldn't dare upset you, Felix."

Felix nuzzles back against Dimitri, even though he can't help but notice that Dimitri's arms are gripping him a little too tightly, and there's an undercurrent of despair to his voice that reminds Felix of the creature he became after the Tragedy of Duscur. 

Arianrhod will be a great loss, to them personally as well as to the Kingdom, but Felix knows that Dimitri will survive it this time without letting it consume him. Felix will make sure of it, and he's certain that Sylvain and Ingrid must have noticed it too. Between the three of them, and with Dedue, perhaps they can keep Dimitri's head above the surface tonight without letting him sink into despair. 

"I'll understand if you hate me tomorrow," Dimitri murmurs against Felix's shoulder. "I promise you, if we win against the Empire, we'll go to Arianrhod and we'll give him—we'll give all of them a proper burial." 

For a moment, Felix can't breathe around the tightness in his chest. He can feel Dimitri shift behind him, concerned by the silence. Felix squeezes his eyes shut and counts in his head, and he can breathe again by _four_. 

"I've never needed your permission to hate you," Felix replies at last. "Besides, you've given me plenty of reasons to hate you in the past and not a single one of them has stuck. I already told you that this isn't your fault. I don't hate you." 

Dimitri holds him a little tighter. "I love you too."

"And you're squeezing all the air out of me," Felix replies, tapping Dimitri's arms until they loosen. "Come on. Let's get clean and get out of here. We'll light the fire in your study and sprawl on the fancy seats like we used to when we were younger."

"I don't think any of us are small enough to _sprawl_ any more," Dimitri replies, with a smile in his voice that makes Felix's heart feel a little lighter. "Though now that I think about it, perhaps you are." 

"Very funny." Felix rolls his eyes, stepping out of the tub and drying himself off, taking in the sight of Dimitri doing the same. "Not all of us grew into giant, hulking beasts." 

Dimitri smiles. "If I recall correctly, you were appreciating this not that long ago." 

Felix throws his towel at Dimitri and turns on his heel. "If we're late to dinner, you know that Sylvain will never let us hear the end of it."

"You say that, but I can see the look in your eyes." Dimitri arches an eyebrow at Felix, walking him back towards the bed until the back of his knees meet the mattress. "Hm?" 

"You're one to talk," Felix huffs, but he doesn't protest further when Dimitri presses him down into the bed and takes him in hand. It's rough and frantic, but it's what Felix needs. Judging by the way Dimitri's length presses against Felix's thigh, it's what he needs too. 

Felix comes with a soft cry, muffled against his fist, and then pushes Dimitri back, lying across his legs and swallowing him down. He's too impatient to tease or take his time, pushing himself until his eyes are watering from it and his throat is tightening around Dimitri's girth. He feels Dimitri's fingers in his hair, holding on firmly and pushing him down, further and further until he chokes, tears clinging to his eyelashes as he swallows around Dimitri's release, pulling back with it dripping from his lips. 

Dimitri pulls him into a deep kiss, stroking his fingers through Felix's hair. When they pull apart, he's smiling again and the darkness behind his eyes has receded. 

"I don't know what I would do without you," he tells Felix, then kisses him again. "No one else is quite so brave when it comes to pulling me out of my own thoughts. Perhaps they're afraid that it won't work."

"You don't scare me, Boar." Felix knows that it's a lie, but it's one he's willing to tell. "I don't imagine your head is a particularly pleasant place to be stuck in. If it doesn't work the first time, I'll just keep trying until it does. Simple as that." 

Dimitri rests their foreheads together, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Felix." 

Felix lifts his left hand, having kept his ring on for their bath. "We promised each other. Now come on. Let's clean ourselves off again and get dressed, before we're too obviously late." 

By the time they make it to Dimitri's study, the others are already there. Sylvain is pacing in front of the bookshelf while Ingrid is sitting on one of the armchairs, picking nervously at the edge of her skirt. Dedue is standing by Dimitri's desk, as if at attention. He doesn't relax when Dimitri walks in, until he sees Dimitri take a seat by the fireplace. Felix perches on the arm of his chair, arms folded across his chest. 

"Food should be here soon," Sylvain tells them. "I sweet talked one of the cooks into sending up a few bottles of wine as well." 

The royal study is a large room with tall bookcases lining the walls and a large window that looks out onto the courtyard. It's warm with the fireplace burning and while there are some low tables scattered about the room, it's not the most comfortable place for five grown adults to sit and eat together. 

Luckily for them, they're used to making do with worse. They pull five chairs together around the fireplace with some tables placed between them to hold the food. It would remind Felix of the days when they were younger and would sneak into here when it was still Lambert's study, sharing armchairs and going through old books and sprawling in front of the fireplace, except the mood now is much too sombre for that. 

"It felt that just a day ago, we had so much hope," Dimitri mutters, gazing into the fire. The darkness is back in his expression and it doesn't recede even when Felix reaches out to stroke his arm. "Now, we have nothing. I can't think of what we can possibly do to regain even footing, let alone find an advantage against Edelgard's forces." 

"She's after the archbishop, isn't she?" Felix asks, raising an eyebrow. "She doesn't care about you, or the Kingdom, beyond the fact that we're standing between her and the Church."

"She won't stop there," Sylvain replies, shaking his head. "You've seen what she's done with Alliance territory. She won't stop until all of Fódlan belongs to the Empire. As long as there's Faerghus, she'll be after us." 

"Besides," Dimitri says, and when he looks up, it feels as if he looks right through Felix. "I am not sending another person to their death. I will not sacrifice the archbishop even if it would bring us peace."

"If anything, it would just turn the Knights of Seiros against us," Sylvain adds. "And we can use all the allies we can get, right now."

They finish their food and fill their cups with more wine, letting a silence fall over them. Felix wishes it could be a comfortable one but he can tell that every single person in the room has their eyes on Dimitri. To make things worse, Dimitri is probably aware of it. Felix, who has never liked being treated delicately, can only imagine how much more uncomfortable Dimitri is feeling because of it. If not discomfort, then guilt for ruining the mood of their night, considering he's so eager to take blame for things that aren't his fault. 

A servant arrives to clear their plates and leave them be with the remainder of the wine. Felix rests his chin in his hand, watching the fire burn while he holds Dimitri's hand in his own, and he almost misses the sound of the door opening and shutting again, and someone clearing their throat to announce their presence.

When he turns around, his blood turns to ice in his veins. Standing by the door, Hubert's spy smiles at them, his gaze fixed on Felix. 

"I have a message for the king," the spy says, and Felix is on his feet without thought, sword already drawn. 

"Felix!" Dimitri sounds alarmed, also on his feet with his hands on Felix's shoulders. 

"Stay back," Felix says without looking over his shoulder, keeping his gaze and the tip of his blade fixed on the spy. "This man is armed." 

He hears Sylvain, Ingrid and Dedue rise to their feet as well. The spy smiles wider, giving Felix a low bow. 

"My message is for the king, should he choose to hear it." He says, his gaze lingering on Felix for a moment before he looks at Dimitri. "I would not hesitate to call this matter a pressing one."

"I'd rather you stopped speaking in circles," Dimitri replies. "Whatever you have to say, I'll hear it if you cut to the point." 

The spy reaches within his jacket. Felix tightens his grip on his sword, his heart pounding in his chest. 

"Don't," he says, unable to hold himself back when he sees the dagger the spy produces. "Not now." 

"My master was patient with you but no longer has any patience left," the spy tells Felix, and drops the dagger at Dimitri's feet. "Your Majesty, this was a gift for your husband. A wedding gift, if you will, with the intention that he would use it, as he has failed to within the time he has been given ever since he was sent here." 

"Sent?" Dimitri repeats, bending down to pick up the dagger. He turns it in his hands, his frown deepening when he takes in the crest, the colours, the design. He turns to Felix. "Who is this master?"

"I think the answer is apparent enough," Dedue says slowly, turning to Felix. "You arrived at a convenient time, just as the Empire finally found a way out of the stalemate that has prevented them from conquering all of Fódlan for the past five years. I thought it was luck, to have such a strong fighter join our ranks again just as the Empire began to mobilise. Now, I realise that it wasn't luck at all."

"What are you implying, Dedue?" Dimitri asks.

"You know exactly what he's saying," Sylvain says. He doesn't look at Felix, frowning at the floor instead. "I don't want to believe it either but—I can't think of a single other reason why that dagger would exist, with that Crest, in those colours. If it was a setup, Felix wouldn't be panicking like he is."

"Sylvain," Felix pleads. 

"This whole thing reeks of Hubert." Sylvain's frown deepens. "Is that where you were for five years? With the Empire? Is that why we couldn't find you? You can't be here as a spy, you're not a good enough liar. You're probably out of the loop to make it more believable. You couldn't have lied about Arianrhod."

"I didn't know anything," Felix insists. "I would never—"

"What?" Sylvain gives him an empty smile, his eyes dark. Felix doesn't think he's ever seen Sylvain this angry. "You wouldn't send your father to his death? But you'd come back here to kill Dimitri? What do you think would have happened to Rodrigue? To the rest of us?"

"I'm not going to kill him!" Felix shouts. He turns to Dimitri, who has been silent. " _Say something_."

It's as if Felix's words set him into motion. Dimitri lifts his head, looking around the room. "Leave us. Dedue, do not let this servant out of your sight. I will speak with him later. For now, I'd like a word with my husband. Alone."

They all hesitate, exchanging matching looks of concern. Dimitri growls under his breath, pulling himself to his full height.

" _Leave_."

They all move at once. Dedue grabs Hubert's spy and Sylvain steps in to help, both of them dragging him away. 

Ingrid walks out after them, stopping in front of Felix. Her eyebrows are drawn together and he can see the way she's trembling with fury. When she speaks, she doesn't yell the way Felix expects her to but her words are clipped and angry. 

"Glenn would be disappointed with you," she tells him. "No—not disappointed. He'd be _ashamed_ to have you as a brother." 

Felix looks away, but he can't bring himself to look at Dimitri just yet. Not even when the door shuts, leaving the two of them alone. The silence that stretches between them is uncomfortable, broken only by the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

"Is it true?" Dimitri asks quietly. "Is Sylvain right? That I couldn't find you for the past five years because you were with the Empire?"

Felix presses his lips into a thin line, and still can't look Dimitri in the eyes. 

"It's a simple question," Dimitri says, stepping towards Felix. He's slow and cautious, and it makes him feel like a hunter on the prowl. "Yes or no, Felix. Don't lie to me. Please." 

Felix bites the inside of his cheek. "Yes." 

Dimitri chuckles. It sounds a little broken. 

"The dagger, then." Dimitri holds it up, the red and white of it glinting in the light of the fire. "This was from Hubert von Vestra?" 

"I wasn't going to use it." Felix finally forces himself to meet Dimitri's eyes and recoils at what he finds there. He can see Dimitri on the edge of something terrible. It reminds him of half a lifetime ago, when they were quelling the Western Rebellion. It reminds him of losing the one thing that was most important to him. 

It's happening again. 

"I wasn't going to kill you," Felix presses forward. "Despite the threats Hubert sent my way. Yes, I was with the Empire when the war broke out, but I'm not loyal to them. I don't care about them. I care about you." 

"Is that why you married me?" Dimitri asks, as if Felix hasn't spoken at all. "It would have brought you so much closer to me. All the easier to do what you needed to. I thought that what we had was something that grew naturally. I thought that you cared for me, the way I do for you. Was that all pretence? Was it just for convenience?" 

"There's nothing convenient about loving you," Felix snaps. "Do you think I can—that I can _pretend_ to feel like this? Do you think I would want to? Do you think I ever asked to be yours, to belong to you whether I like it or not? I couldn't stand you when we were at the Academy. All I thought of you was that you were a beast who needed to be put down. I thought I could do that with my own hands, if I needed to." 

Dimitri steps forward, his gauntleted hand closing around Felix's neck and slamming him back against a bookcase so hard that it shakes. Books and trinkets clatter to the floor and Felix's head spins with the impact. 

"Kill me, then," Dimitri growls into his face, pressing the dagger into Felix's hands. "Put me down. You came here for one reason, after all. Let the Kingdom fall. The death of your father, of Ingrid, of Sylvain, of Dedue, of every single one of our friends, let them be on your hands as they will be on mine for ever trusting you. Let their gravestones hang around your neck until you choke." 

"Dimitri," Felix rasps, and he tells himself that his eyes are filling with tears only because of the pressure of Dimitri's gauntlet against his windpipe. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Dimitri uses his free hand to put his hand over Felix's, making him grip the dagger. He presses into it, though it's stopped by the plate armour he wears. "Did you imagine this, before you came home to me? When I was celebrating your return, were you already imagining me dead at your feet?"

"Dimitri, please." Felix says, a hiccuping sob escaping his throat. He doesn't know what he's asking for, when he knows Dimitri's forgiveness is impossible. Death, maybe. There's nothing else he deserves, and he knows it. 

"I loved you like the sun loves the sky," Dimitri tells him, resting their foreheads together, but the sweet words are tinged with a dark undercurrent in his tone. Felix is familiar with this darkness: he's seen it consume Dimitri before. This time, it's going to be his fault. "I loved you more than anything and it's for that reason alone that I am saying this, Felix. You have until dawn to leave Fhirdiad. Leave the kingdom. If we ever cross paths after then, I will tear your heart out with my bare hands. Do you understand?" 

Felix blinks, thick tears spilling down his cheeks, and he nods. 

"Good," Dimitri sighs, then leans in to press a firm kiss to Felix's lips. He steps back, letting go of Felix's throat and letting him collapse to the floor. "Now leave, before I change my mind and hunt you down."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The Garreg Mach monastery looms over Felix from atop its hill. He hasn't missed this place and its ancient walls but as he left the Kingdom, this was the only place he could think of. 

There are Empire forces in all the nearby towns. Felix is grateful for the traveler's cloak he'd stolen some hours ago, the muddy brown of it hiding the Fraldarius blue of his clothing. In the short time Dimitri had given him to leave Fhirdiad, Felix could only change back into the same clothing he's worn onto battlefields for the past five years and grab his weapons. The horse he'd stolen from the stables is exhausted from riding all night, too tired to cause Felix any trouble as he slides off its back and guides it by the reins. It's been an uncomfortable journey and his chest is aching like he's physically wounded. He can barely manage to keep himself upright as he climbs the hill to the monastery's gates, relying on the horse for balance when it feels like his knees are going to give out from underneath him.

He's stopped by two guards who cross their lances before him, preventing him from stepping through the gates.

"What do we have here?" one of them asks, in the tone of someone who has let what little authority they have get to their head. "Are you lost? This is a place for Empire soldiers only, not for commoners." 

"I'm not a commoner," Felix says, gritting his teeth. "I… I work for Hubert von Vestra. He's probably expecting me."

"The Emperor's adviser is out." The guard sneers at him. "You'll just have to wait here."

Felix is about to grab his sword and fight his way past the guards when a soft voice calls out, "Felix? Is that you?"

Just past the guards, Linhardt is standing there with a large tome in one arm. He yawns, covering his mouth with his free hand. "What are you standing out there for? Come in."

The disgruntled guards step aside for him and Felix walks past, taking his hand off his sword. 

"Linhardt." Felix fights back a yawn of his own. "I'm surprised you're up so early. In fact, I'm surprised you're here at all. I would have assumed you were all still in Arianrhod."

"I didn't go," Linhardt tells him. "Edelgard didn't think they would need my healing magic, considering how scant the enemy forces were going to be. I hear they didn't even have any reinforcements." 

"Right." Felix looks away. "Edelgard's ploy of making Di—the Kingdom move their forces away from Arianrhod was effective." 

"They'll be marching back soon," Linhardt says. "If I'm not up and ready to look at whatever injuries they couldn't tend to themselves, Edelgard's going to make sure I hear about it. I'd ask you to accompany me to the town to restock on supplies, but you look dead on your feet. I'd wager you feel about the same. I'm sure there should be a room free somewhere in the old dormitories." 

Felix nods as he leaves, taking his horse to the stable before he gathers his belongings and trudges up the stairs and to the dormitories. 

After the war broke out, Felix never let himself settle in one place. He'd come and go from the monastery, fighting in small towns and anywhere else his sword was needed. He wasn't one for strategy and they didn't need him at the table when they plotted how to invade the Kingdom. Whenever he did stay at the monastery, it would only be for a few days before he left again, unbothered about where he would sleep as long as he wasn't bothered. 

Now, his feet walk him along a familiar path, up the stairs and down a corridor and isn't his old door that he stops in front of, but the one beside it. 

Dimitri's old room. 

He turns the handle, relieved to find it unlocked and doubly so to find the room unoccupied. There are signs that someone is definitely using the room and isn't here at the moment but that's a problem he can address later. For now, he drops his things by the foot of the bed and crawls into it, trying to pretend that these sheets smell of Dimitri, the same way their shared bed did back in Fhirdiad. 

It doesn't work, and despite how bone-tired he is, sleep doesn't come. He lies awake, watching the sky turn lighter outside the window until he hears the steady march of soldiers returning to the monastery. He gets up, walking out of the room and down to the entrance.

Felix expects to see a small army. He's heard the tales of Arianrhod, he's heard its legends of the Silver Maiden and how for as long as it's stood, the fortress has thought to be impenetrable. Even left without any reinforcements, he would have expected a difficult battle to capture it. Instead, it's nothing more than a moderately sized party led by Edelgard and beside her, it truly is Byleth looking just as they did before the war broke out, as if they have been suspended in time for the past five years. 

Felix looks at the rest of the party and feels his stomach turn, wondering which of them were the one to kill his father. 

Hubert rides his tall black horse just behind Edelgard. Ferdinand is beside him and they're speaking as they ride past, too softly and too far away for Felix to hear them, but he doesn't miss the looks they give each other. Perhaps he wouldn't have understood it before, but the way his heart aches now tells him all he needs to know.

Felix doesn't get the chance to speak to Hubert when there are injured soldiers to offload to Linhardt's care, armour and weapons to maintain, reports and plans to be made. Felix is still tired but too tightly wound to sleep so he makes his way to the training grounds, hacking his way through three training dummies before he realises it isn't helping. He's starving, so he heads to the dining hall in the hope of catching the tail end of breakfast. 

There are more people sitting here than he expects. He hesitates, sitting at the end of a table, far enough away that no one engages with him but close enough that he can still overhear what they're saying. 

"It's true," one of the soldiers is saying to his companions. "There's nothing where Arianrhod used to stand. Just these giant pillars of light that destroyed it! I heard it was the Archbishop getting revenge on the Empire."

"You," Felix speaks up, leaning across the table. "Say that again."

"Arianrhod," the soldier tells him grimly. "Completely gone. Not a single body to be recovered. All that effort we made in occupying it, wasted."

Felix sits back in his seat as he lets that thought settle over him and the concept, however distant, of him being able to recover his father's body, vanishing into nothing. 

"You say it was the Archbishop?"

"Of course. Heard it from the Emperor herself. I can't think of who else would be capable of something so devastating anyway. Rumour has it that she's just hiding behind the Kingdom as a shield, biding her time until she can face Edelgard directly." 

"Right." Felix hides his frown against his hand as he rubs his mouth. He's never cared for Edelgard's war against the Church of Seiros but the thought of Rhea using Dimitri for her own gain doesn't sit well with him. 

For a moment, he catches himself thinking that he should warn Dimitri, or Ingrid, or Sylvain. He shoots down the thought quickly enough as reality settles around him again. He has no way of speaking to them and even if he could, he knows they wouldn't listen. 

The thought settles around him like a black shroud, souring his mood and he spends the rest of the day irritable. He has no patience for the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force who come to find him in the training yard, having heard from Linhardt that he's returned. None of them are Hubert and none of them have any information that matters to him. He shrugs them off and shuts them out, one after another, until it's late afternoon and the sun is sinking into the horizon.

He's walking to Dimitri's—to _his_ room—having forcefully evicted the captain who had been using it before, when Hubert steps out from between two pillars and falls into step with Felix. 

"You," Felix breathes, his hand having gone to his sword on instinct. He keeps it resting there. "Took you long enough."

"You're one to talk." Hubert chuckles darkly. "Not only do you fail to complete the one, simple task you were given in a timely manner, but you don't even have the sense to weasel your way out of your mission properly. You were far too easy to expose."

"What did you expect me to do?" Felix mutters. "Kill your spy? He probably wasn't your only one. You would have found a way to expose me one way or another."

"So you aren't quite _as_ stupid as I expected," Hubert says dryly. "Congratulations. I must admit, I'm surprised you're still alive." 

"Di—the boar spared me." Felix swallows hard. "That is the only reason."

"So you've returned here. Am I to trust that you'll fight against the Kingdom when we finally march on Fhirdiad?"

Felix shrugs. "There's nothing left for me there. There's nowhere I belong except for the battlefield." 

"How pathetic," Hubert scoffs. "Don't you worry, Fraldarius. I'll find use for you yet."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The next month feels like it drags itself into an eternity. Felix settles into a routine of throwing himself into training drills and waiting for his next order. 

It takes him a week before he breaks and digs through his room, searching for a scrap, a sign of Dimitri. He finds nothing but a new level of self-loathing, furious at himself for looking, for hoping, for being unable to let go of what he's already lost. 

Two weeks in, and he starts hearing rumours of the beast king of Faerghus. The dining hall is a good place to eavesdrop, especially when Felix is being carefully shut out of any important discussions. 

There are two soldiers sitting there with their heads bowed but they're so excited to share whatever they've heard that they don't manage to keep their voices low enough. Felix sits alone, picking at his plate of food as he listens to their stories: the king of Faerghus has turned into someone unrecognisable. His approach to the war has changed. Where he would hold back and listen to the counsel of his advisors, he now charges into battle without thought for consequences. He fights like a cornered animal. 

Like a beast.

A boar.

Felix rises to his feet, his seat creaking against the floor as he pushes it back. It draws attention but he doesn't stop to look at any of them, doesn't care if they know who he is, or where he's from.

"You," he says, walking over to the soldiers and joining their table. They exchange uncomfortable glances but stay where they are. "Keep talking." 

"That's all we've heard," one of the soldiers says apologetically. "After five years of sitting in Fhirdiad and holding us at stalemate, he's started pushing back. The territory that we've managed to claim once we took Arianrhod is lost again—either thanks to the Church decimating the fortress, or because of the beast king attacking towns occupied by the Empire. He's ruthless. We've already lost two towns overnight and three battalions." 

Felix hums, rising to his feet without another word, and leaves the dining hall. 

He ends up walking around the monastery, aimless but needing to do _something_ to keep himself occupied and he can't bring himself to go to the training yard. Not when holding a practice sword reminds him of all the times he sparred with Dimitri in Fhirdiad, and how he'd relearned Dimitri through the swing of their weapons only to lose him again. 

He wonders if Dimitri will be able to snap out of it this time, whether Dimitri will be able to shove it back down under the surface and pretend that he's the same man he's been pretending to be all along. He wonders if this anger is something that Dimitri can wrestle with until he regains control or whether he'll fight and kill for the rest of his life.

Felix's steps falter as he wonders just how long Dimitri has to live. 

Hubert no doubt has new plans set in motion. It wouldn't be surprising if Hubert already had back up plans ready while Felix was still in Fhirdiad but the fact that Dimitri is alive and fighting means that whatever those were, they've also failed. If Hubert's subtle approaches aren't working, then the only thing left is the direct approach from Edelgard herself. With the Kingdom gone, there will be nothing standing between her and Rhea. Perhaps, if Rhea has truly been using Dimitri all along, she'll use him as a shield for as long as he serves the purpose.

The thought leaves Felix feeling sick and he's about to round the corner to walk back to his room when he hears a voice.

"—Just a moment longer? I feel as though we barely see each other these days." 

It's Ferdinand. Felix rocks back on his heels, staying out of sight as he listens. After Hubert, Ferdinand is the closest to Edelgard. Perhaps, whoever he is speaking to, there'll be some information to glean from this. 

"We're preparing for an important battle." It's Hubert, who sounds dismissive as ever. When he speaks again, though, his voice softens. "After we succeed in this, we'll have all the time we need."

"It's precisely because we're preparing for a battle that I want to see you," Ferdinand presses. "With every battle we walk into, there's no guarantee that we'll walk back out." 

"What a foolish thought," Hubert mutters, but his voice doesn't sound as sharp as Felix is used to hearing. "As if I would allow anything to happen. I will see to it that Lady Edelgard has dismantled the world as we know it and then, as we build something new, we will build it together. You and I."

"And Edelgard," Ferdinand adds, but he chuckles all the same. "Very well. I shall wait. It won't be long, after all." 

Felix waits until he hears their footsteps leave, before he takes a breath and rounds the corner. 

Hubert is standing there, waiting for him. 

"There's a reason I never considered making you a spy," he tells Felix. "You have never been one for subtlety. Are you satisfied with what you've heard?"

"Edelgard is marching on Fhirdiad," Felix says, his stomach sinking. "Her final, important battle." 

"She will announce it to everyone tomorrow morning." Hubert chuckles. "I imagine we'll make use of you as well. Which of your old friends would you like to kill? Or would you like to stand back and watch as I show you how to commit to something and follow through?" 

Felix balls his hands into fists. "I'll do as I'm told." 

"Like a good dog," Hubert replies. "What a shame that your master turned you away." 

Felix's anger flares. "He wasn't my—" 

"No, of course not, he was more than that wasn't he?" Hubert gives him a mocking smile. "And he still turned you away. How pathetic." 

"I'll fight the Knights of Seiros," Felix declares. "I'll kill them all, so Edelgard can kill Rhea herself." 

Hubert hums in thought then, looking as if he's genuinely considering it. Felix knows better than to trust him, but can't help the budding hope all the same, eager to take revenge on the Church for betraying Dimitri. As if he's any better. 

"You'll receive your orders with everyone else," Hubert says, a clear dismissal. "Keep your blade sharp. It's all that you're good for, after all."  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, as Hubert said, Edelgard declares that they are marching on Fhirdiad in earnest. No subterfuge this time, no secret targets.

Felix believes her, knowing there are no other targets left. Fraldarius, Edelgard declares, has already been occupied. The Imperial forces there will march on Fhirdiad and there, Edelgard will end things, once and for all.

"If the Kingdom and Church mobilise their forces as I expect," Edelgard says, "I believe we will cross paths at Tailtean Plains. We may not have the territory advantage, but the Kingdom is cornered and out of options. We will be victorious."

Edelgard leads the march with Hubert, Ferdinand and Byleth close by her side, the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force behind her. Felix is further behind, marching near the front of the army. There is no point in attempting subtlety with the full force of the Imperial army and so Edelgard doesn't try; they follow the road to Fhirdiad and Felix takes stock of his surroundings, mentally marking off the abandoned towns that they pass as they get closer and closer to Tailtean Plains.

There's nothing waiting for Felix for him there and each step he takes forward feels meaningless. If the Empire wins, Dimitri will be dead and so will the rest of their friends, staining Felix's hands a deeper and more indelible red than any kill he has made with his own blade. If the Kingdom wins, the most Felix can hope for is to look into Dimitri's eyes one last time before he is killed. 

The clouds gather throughout the day, growing darker and heavier until it starts to rain. Edelgard doesn't slow their pace until they reach the plains. The army stops, glad for the respite before battle. Felix keeps his eyes on the horizon, waiting for the first glimpse of the Kingdom standards. 

When they do, it's with Dimitri at the head of the army. They're too far apart to see each other clearly but that doesn't stop Felix's heart from clenching in his chest all the same. He can't see any Knights of Seiros and it's a fact that immediately sets him on edge. The confirmation comes via a runner sent by Hubert, telling the army to watch their flanks for a surprise attack. 

Felix grimly tightens his grip on his sword. Dimitri isn't even Edelgard's true target here; the Church is using him to bolster their own defences and he doesn't even realise it. 

He deserves to know. Felix can't stand the thought of Dimitri dying on someone else's terms. He's a king, not a pawn, and the thought of Rhea using him as a shield is enough to make him want to drive his own blade through the Archbishop's chest. 

With a deep breath, Felix pushes the thought aside. He wants to warn Dimitri but there's no way of doing so, and he knows that Dimitri is more than likely to kill him before he even gets a chance to speak. Perhaps someone else, he thinks, but then the battle begins and he doesn't have the time to think of anything other than surviving. 

The army breaks off into smaller units and Felix's heart sinks as his unit comes up against Ashe. He sees the recognition and disappointment in those grey eyes but before Felix can even open his mouth to speak, Ashe is already shooting arrows in his direction.

Some of the other soldiers go down. Felix dodges until he's out of range and Ashe is too busy fighting off someone else. With the fighting so frenzied, the army is quickly losing any order it had. Felix glances around, his heart skipping when the bright auburn of Sylvain's hair catches his eye.

Sylvain is the perfect person to warn, Felix realises. He's a strategist. If he knows that the Church can't be trusted, he'll know what to do about it. 

Leaving the rest of his unit behind, Felix crosses the battlefield towards Sylvain.

He can tell the precise moment Sylvain sees him because of the way he shifts in his saddle, going from cautiously defensive to holding his lance ready to charge.

"I was wondering if I'd see you here," Sylvain says to him. He sounds sad, but there's nothing but anger and grim determination in his eyes. "You have no idea what you've done."

"Sylvain, listen to me—"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence as Sylvain's lance comes swinging down at him. Felix raises his sword to block the blow, their blades clashing loudly. Felix pushes Sylvain's lance back, regaining his ground.

"I'm not here to fight you." Felix blocks another swing. "I need to tell you something."

"There's nothing you can say that can change this, Felix." Sylvain smiles at him regretfully. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"The Knights of Seiros," Felix bites out, before Sylvain can attack again. "Where are they? Rhea is just using Dimitri. She destroyed Arianrhod. She'll destroy Fhirdiad too if you let her. She doesn't care about the Kingdom, or about Dimitri."

Sylvain's eyes flash with anger and he swings his lance at Felix again, hard enough that it makes him stumble back when he blocks it. "What do you know about caring for the Kingdom, or for Dimitri? You're a traitor. You're lying."

"You know I'm not." Felix looks up at Sylvain. "I'm not a good enough liar. You said it yourself." 

Sylvain hesitates then, letting Felix's words sink in. It's just half a second of distraction, but it's enough for an Imperial archer to get Sylvain in her sights. Before Felix can even think about it, he's casting Thoron in her direction, the thunder crashing into her until she crumples to the ground.

"Felix," Sylvain breathes in disbelief, looking between him and the archer.

"The Church," Felix prompts him, turning to leave. "Do something, or Rhea will let Dimitri die for her."

He doesn't wait to listen to Sylvain's reply, trusting that he'll take care of it, and returns his focus to the rest of the battlefield, taking stock of the situation. 

Dimitri draws Felix's attention like steel to a magnet. The rumours of his ferocity on the battlefield have not been exaggerated: his expression is warped into a grin of vicious glee as he cleaves through an entire battalion of foot soldiers on his own, Areadbhar in his hands, the crest weapon glowing in the dull rain. He's broken past the front lines of the Imperial forces, his battalion behind him and Dedue not far behind with his own. 

There are bodies littered in Dimitri's path wearing Adrestian colours, killed before they had the chance to flee. There are other battalions already falling back before Dimitri can reach them, knowing there is no hope of survival.

The battlefield is evening out; while the Imperial army had outnumbered the Kingdom at first, they've taken enough losses that this advantage is gone. Felix's chest tightens with something close to hope before he remembers he has no right to feel it. Should the Kingdom win this fight, it won't be his victory to share with them.

Their victory isn't guaranteed though and there's one thought that has been sitting at the back of Felix's mind for the entire march here: even if the Empire wins, there are still ways to weaken it. He knows that without Byleth, Hubert and Ferdinand, Edelgard would be significantly weaker. 

Byleth is fighting too close to Edelgard for Felix to do anything about them. It would mean cutting his way across the entire battlefield and there's no point in doing that when Ferdinand is closer. He's leading his battalion against a group of pegasus knights, too focused on the fight to notice the way Felix joins their ranks. 

No one else in the battalion takes notice of Felix either as he starts from the back, pulling soldiers off their horses and killing them methodically by plunging his sword between the gaps of their armour until there's no one left but Ferdinand. The pegasus knight leading the group fighting against Ferdinand has noticed him; Felix doesn't know if she recognises him and doesn't care. She realises that Ferdinand is his target, and so she disengages at just the right time for Felix to grab Ferdinand, using all of his strength to bring him crashing down out of his saddle and onto the ground. 

"What—" Ferdinand reaches for his lance but Felix is quicker, kicking it out of reach. His eyes narrow at Felix. " _You_. Do you truly believe that the Kingdom can win? That they would take you back?" 

"This won't change a thing for the Kingdom," Felix begins, but he's cut off when Ferdinand leaps at him, wrestling the sword of his hands and knocking it out of reach. Felix grits his teeth, grabbing a handful of Ferdinand's hair and forcing him onto his stomach in the mud. He reaches for the dagger strapped to his thigh, only realising when it's in his hand that it's the same Adrestian dagger that Hubert had given him. 

With a bitter laugh, Felix sets the edge of the dagger to Ferdinand's throat. "You've fought to be so important to the Empire. We'll see how it fares without you." 

He slits Ferdinand's throat, and doesn't even hear the sound of his body falling to the ground over the raw scream of fury that comes from across the field. 

Hubert is standing there, wild-eyed and with magic already gathering in his hands. He's surrounded by Sylvain, Annette and Mercedes but the spell he sends is in Felix's direction, making him duck and roll as the air above him explodes with a Death, the smell of dark magic hanging in the air behind him as he gets back up onto his feet. 

Sylvain is closing in on Hubert again, pulling his attention away. Hubert pushes him back with a Miasma that sends Annette and Mercedes retreating as well. It buys enough time for Felix to throw the dagger straight at him. Hubert dodges to the side with a grunt, and it's all the time Felix needs before he has his sword out again, crashing into Hubert and plunging his sword right through him, pinning him to the muddy earth below. 

"You took away the one good thing in my life," Felix snarls into his face. "I'll see you in the eternal flames."

Hubert laughs, the wet wheeze of his breath sounding thin. He lifts a trembling hand, pointing across the field. "And it's your turn to lose, once again."

Felix follows Hubert's finger, his stomach dropping out as he realises that Edelgard has reached Dimitri and not only are they locked in battle, but Dimitri has lost the momentum that's carried him through the rest of the battle. He's on the defensive, their Relics clashing with the terrible sound of metal and bone.

Pushing Hubert aside, Felix rises to his feet just as Dimitri is forced to take a step backwards to dodge a swing of Edelgard's axe, only to have his foot slip, the driving rain turning the soil to mud, mixed with all the blood that has been spilled already. Edelgard takes advantage of the split second when Dimitri struggles for balance, lunging forward with another attack and then another, until he's forced to his knees.

Felix runs toward them without thought. He knows he has to do _something_ but he isn't sure what. Not until he watches the way Edelgard slowly raises her axe as an executioner would, and Dimitri, still on his knees, does nothing but watch. 

There's a sudden clarity that hits him then, the moment before Edelgard swings down. Felix's boots splash in the mud and for a moment, it feels as if time itself is suspended. He sees the path before him, knows its consequences, and makes his peace with it, all in the time it takes to draw a single breath and pump his legs that little bit harder as he runs.

He isn't sure he'll make it, until he does. He finds himself before Edelgard, arms raised to his sides, with Dimitri behind him. 

Edelgard's axe cleaves into him, in through his shoulder and diagonally across until it buries itself in his chest. It's strange, just how clear his mind feels in this moment even as his mouth fills with blood. 

He thinks that perhaps he hears Dimitri scream. 

Felix coughs, spitting blood onto the ground. If Dimitri can scream, then Dimitri is alive. Edelgard is unarmed, now that Felix has her axe. She lets go of it as Dimitri charges at her and the weight of it makes Felix stumble. It's heavy. His entire body feels heavy and the clarity of his mind fades as the ground rushes up to meet him, his vision blurring at the edges.

He glances to his side as he hears Edelgard fall, face down in a pool of blood. 

Felix tries to breathe and wonders if Dimitri enjoyed this kill, too.

"Felix." He hears Dimitri's shaking voice before feeling the touch of his gauntlet. He leans into the contact, letting Dimitri lift his face until they're looking at each other. "Felix, what have you done?"

"Dimitri," he rasps out. His throat hurts. Everything hurts. His eyes feel heavy. 

"Stay with me," Dimitri pleads, so urgent that Felix forces his eyes open again. "Felix, please."

If Felix could, he would do anything Dimitri asks of him. Anything to wipe that terrible expression off his face. He's still talking, Felix thinks, but it's hard to make out any words. Perhaps he's asking Felix to stay again, and Felix wishes he could. He wishes he stayed, back at the Academy, back when the war broke out, back when Hubert exposed him. He wishes he stayed by Dimitri's side. He wishes he still could. 

He can't, and they both know it. 

With one last wheezing breath, Felix looks up into Dimitri's eyes, taking in the colour of clear skies, of deep lakes, of home. 

"Your shield," Felix whispers with a smile. He loves this man, he thinks, more than the rest of the world combined. He can barely focus on Dimitri's face but he isn't ready to go. Not just yet. "Always yours." 

His final breath comes shuddering out of him and he shuts his eyes, content in the knowledge that Dimitri is alive.  
  
  
  


  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The reverence the citizens of Faerghus hold for the concept of death is one that borders on obsession. It's treated with ceremony. Felix remembers how he would visit the Fraldarius family crypt once a year with his family, so deep under the castle that it felt that he had to be six feet underground before he was allowed to acknowledge the dead. 

It was difficult to tolerate when it was Felix's mother they would visit, each anniversary of her death while her birthday slowly faded from memory, as if her death mattered more than her life. 

Then, after the Tragedy of Duscur and the return of twisted and broken armour in lieu of a brother, Felix found that death no longer stayed down in the crypt where it belonged. It walked the halls and took up the space where Glenn once was. It filled silences and weighed hearts down; Felix's, his father's, and Dimitri's too. 

Felix hasn't stepped foot in the Fraldarius family crypt since he was thirteen. Since Glenn stopped growing any older. It's custom for no one but family to be allowed into the crypt but Felix remembers how Dimitri would spend hours in there, emerging from the depths of the castle looking like he belonged with the dead. Felix remembers how he would refuse to look at Dimitri after, and wish he would return to the crypt for good. How he spat at Dimitri and his father both that death made the living selfish, never once realising it had done the same to him. 

Perhaps it will be Dimitri to arrange an empty coffin for Rodrigue. 

Perhaps he will lay Felix's bones to rest there too, in a place he always hated and spent his life avoiding. After all, there's no other place he belongs.  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix blinks his eyes open to bright light. He takes a breath, only to have it catch in his throat with the sheer amount of pain that ripples through him. He shuts his eyes tightly, gasping as he tries to move. There's a gentle hand in his hair, stroking through it. A low voice murmuring something he can't quite catch. It's comforting. He can't speak but he suddenly finds he's too tired for it anyway. He exhales slowly, already drifting off to sleep when he feels someone kiss his forehead.  
  
  
  
  
  
The second time Felix opens his eyes, he realises he's alive. 

He lies there, trying to make sense of it. He wishes someone would draw the curtains, the room is still too bright for him and he can barely see anything. 

It still hurts to breathe but it's not as bad this time. He doesn't have the strength to lift his head but he turns it, blinking until his eyes focus.

He's lying in a bed, and he's not alone. To his left, Dimitri is asleep. His chest rises and falls with his deep sleep-breathing and the very sight of it makes Felix's heart seize in his chest with sheer relief. It doesn't matter how or why Felix is alive, as long as Dimitri is as well. 

His voice won't work even as his lips form Dimitri's name. He reaches out, willing himself to find the strength for it. The bed feels too vast and Dimitri feels impossibly far away. He screws his eyes shut with frustration, and finds they're too heavy too open again.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Felix wakes again, Dimitri is closer. He has Felix's hand in his own, held to his chest. Felix stays there for a moment, not daring to move just yet as he feels Dimitri's heart beat against his hand. 

The door opens. Felix hears the solid click of a heel, and then a soft voice saying, "You're still here." 

Dimitri sighs softly. His grip tightens on Felix's hand. "I won't leave him."

"It's been a week. If anything happens—"

"I won't leave him, Mercedes," Dimitri says, louder this time. His voice trembles. 

Felix wonders if Dimitri has been here the entire time. A full week. It's more than Felix deserves.

"'Mitri." The shattered glass rasp of his voice makes his throat burn. Three syllables are too many and he grunts in pain as Dimitri grabs his shoulder.

" _Gentle_ ," Mercedes scolds, even though Dimitri is already pulling his hand back with a hasty apology. 

"Felix," Dimitri says, his hand hovering by his cheek, too afraid to touch him again. His voice is trembling again and his eyes are shining with tears. "Oh, Felix, you're awake."

Felix wants to reach for Dimitri again, but he finds that he can't. He frowns, and Mercedes must see something in his expression because she steps around to the other side of the bed, sounding more authoritative when she says, "Help me sit him up. Then fetch Linhardt, he must be just outside."

"Lin…?" Felix asks with a frown as both Dimitri and Mercedes pull him into a sitting position. He bats Dimitri's hands away once he's upright but when he tries to do the same with Mercedes, he stops.

"Felix," Dimitri says, so gentle and careful, as if he's afraid Felix will break.

He looks down at himself, taking stock, trying to process what he sees. He turns to Dimitri again, who watches him warily, braced for something explosive. 

"My arm," he says quietly. 

Another voice speaks up. "You did an impressive job, stopping that axe. It took us such a long time, figuring out how to get it back out of you." 

It's Linhardt, entering the room. His sleeves are pulled up to his elbows, his hair is tied up into a bun and he looks exhausted. It makes sense that the Kingdom would spare him; he's more useful to them alive, and Mercedes likely needs the help. Linhardt stops at the foot of the bed, directly in front of Felix. 

"It was my call, so you can hate me if you like. The damage to your arm was too severe, you would have lost the use of it anyway. You should be thankful it didn't do worse. I'm _still_ amazed we could keep you alive."

Felix reaches up with his left hand, touching his right shoulder and feeling where it ends. He flinches away and the sudden movement makes his entire body throb with pain. 

"I—" he begins, but Linhardt is already pushing the bucket into his arm and he doesn't even have the time to be grateful for it before he throws up. It's nothing but bile and saliva, making his throat burn even worse. He heaves and trembles, feeling Dimitri rub circles into his back. 

"Leave us," Dimitri says, as Felix finally stops shaking. "Please. I'll call for you the moment he needs anything."

Linhardt sighs, pulling a stoppered bottle out of a pocket and setting it on the bedside table, beside the jug of water that sits there. "Drink this. It won't be any use to you unless you can keep it down, so don't force it."

Felix waits until the door has shut behind them before he turns to Dimitri. "Why?"

Dimitri's hand on his back has gone still, but he still maintains the contact. The look in his eyes is softer than anything Felix deserves. "Felix…"

" _Why_?" There are tears burning the backs of his eyes and he blinks furiously to keep them at bay. He doesn't know which question to ask first; why am I here, why didn't you let me die, why have you stayed at my bedside all this time, and each and every one of them have the same answer, written into the soft and sad and patient way Dimitri watches him. 

Felix wishes he would look away, or that he would be angry. Instead, Dimitri's steady gaze cleaves his chest open more powerfully than Aymr ever could and it feels like Felix is about to throw up again. He clutches for his bucket once more but when he hunches over it, the only thing that comes out is a wretched sob that he can't hold back no matter how hard he tries. 

Dimitri shifts closer, gently pulling Felix against him. He tucks Felix's head under his chin and holds him. "You saved my life, Felix."

"I betrayed you first." He forces the words out, sagging against Dimitri. "I should be dead."

" _I'm_ the one who should have died that day." Dimitri's voice is firm even though it's still quiet. "I'm only here because you didn't allow it to happen. I couldn't allow you to die either. Mercedes was nearby. Sylvain grabbed Linhardt to help. I pushed them both to exhaustion just so I wouldn't lose you."

"Selfish," Felix mutters. There were so many other uses for two skilled healers after a battle so big.

"Yes." Dimitri gives him a hollow laugh. "Death _does_ make the living selfish. I would have given anything to keep you, Felix. You're mine and I will not allow anyone to take you from me."

"What use am I to you?" Felix asks, pulling away from Dimitri and dropping his gaze to his lap. "A traitor without his sword arm. I don't deserve your trust and even if I have it, no one else here will trust me—"

He breaks off, coughing as his voice finally gives up on him. Dimitri reaches across him to the jug sitting on the table, bringing it to Felix's lips. "Drink. You must be parched."

Felix does, never having felt so thirsty in his life. As he drinks, Dimitri continues speaking. "You returned to Fhirdiad for the sole purpose of killing me, did you not?"

Felix flinches at that, water spilling down his chin. Dimitri adjusts his grip on the jug, waiting until Felix is ready to drink again.

"You had weeks to kill me, if you truly wanted to. I have known you all our lives, Felix. When you truly want to do something, there is not a single thing in the world that can stop you. I refuse to believe that our time together was a simple ruse. You married me. When we were changing you out of your battle clothes, I took your gloves off and…"

"The ring," Felix remembers, lifting his hand up. His finger is bare and his heart sinks, until Dimitri places the jug back down onto the table and leans back, holding the gold band between his fingers. 

"You wore it all this time." Dimitri says softly. "Even after I turned you away. …Even after I became the beast you always knew I was." 

"Of course I did," Felix replies, but before he can continue, his breath catches at the sight of Dimitri wearing his own ring. "…You too."

"Always." Dimitri takes Felix's hand into his. "If I was in battle, I would wear it on a chain. Otherwise, I never took it off my finger. I never planned to." 

Felix exhales shakily. He doesn't deserve any of this. 

"Tell me why, Felix," Dimitri prompts him, thumb stroking over the back of his hand. "Tell me why you didn't kill me. Why you still wear your ring. Why you didn't let Edelgard kill me." 

"You _know_ why," Felix snaps, pulling his hand out of Dimitri's grip and grabbing a fistful of his hair instead, pulling him close until their foreheads are resting together. The backs of his eyes are burning again and he bites the inside of his cheek hard, desperately trying to get himself back under control. It doesn't work, not when the depth of his feelings is too vast for him to possibly contain. He tightens his grip in Dimitri's hair, tugging at it and glaring at him. "Don't make me say it." 

Dimitri smiles, gentle as the spring sun thawing the winter snow. He strokes his fingers through Felix's hair in return, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You are my heart. There is not a single other person in this world I could ever love in the way that I love you, Felix. There is much work to be done even though the war is over. A broken continent to heal. It will be bitter work, I cannot deny it, but it will be better than fighting a war. I will face whatever I have ahead of me without wavering, but I would prefer to do it with you at my side." 

The realisation settles into Felix's bones, taking his breath away. He clears his throat, trying to find his voice. "You want me there."

" _Yes_ , Felix." Dimitri takes his hand again, holding his ring up once more. "I have spent most of my life wanting nothing more than for you to come back to me. If I must wait longer, I promise you that I will—"

"Put it on," Felix interrupts. He's grown used to the weight of his ring in the short time since he started wearing it. Without it, he feels bare.

Dimitri doesn't need to be told again. He slides Felix's ring back on, bringing his hand up to kiss it. 

"Can you drink the medicine Linhardt left for you?" Dimitri asks, unstoppering the bottle and offering it to Felix. 

Felix knocks it back, swallowing despite the disgusting taste of it. Dimitri strokes his back through it before helping Felix settle back into bed. 

"You need more rest," Dimitri says. "You still need to regain your strength. I'll be here." 

"Faerghus needs its king," Felix tells him. "Fódlan needs you." 

_I need you_ , he doesn't say, but Dimitri settles under the covers with him all the same, pulling Felix against his chest. 

"Just a little longer," Dimitri murmurs and as Felix breathes him in, he realises that perhaps Dimitri needs him too.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
It's another week before Felix has the strength to leave his room. He's given a cane for support and express instructions to avoid the training yard. 

He goes anyway. He's trained with swords in both hands for most of his life, even if he's always preferred his right. His left hand won't be entirely useless and with enough practice, he's sure that he'll be able to make himself useful again. Even if Dimitri has avoided discussing politics with him, Felix is aware that there are likely to be rebellions to quell and bandits to stop. 

He's tired by the time he's managed to climb down the stairs to the training yard but he persists. He falters once he walks through the double doors. Just by the weapons rack, Sylvain is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, clearly waiting for him. There's an empty chair beside him that he must have carried over from the dining hall. 

"Felix," he greets, his expression shuttered. His eyes don't carry their usual warmth.

Still, he cares enough to have carried a chair over. Felix sinks into it gratefully, panting softly until his breath evens out. When he looks up, Sylvain is watching him with his eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's weird seeing you like this."

"It's weird _being_ like this," Felix replies. Then, quieter, he adds, "I didn't plan on surviving."

Sylvain laughs then but it sounds wrong. It's a quiet and sorrowful thing. "I figured. Seeing you with that axe lodged in you, I didn't think you _could_. Dimitri was stubborn, though. He didn't want to lose you again. It was… hard on him, after he sent you away."

"I heard the rumours about him." Felix twists his ring with his thumb. "How brutal he was on the battlefield."

"He wasn't himself." Sylvain sighs quietly. "It wasn't just the battlefield. He was ruthless. We didn't have much of an army but he didn't care. All he wanted was to push through the Empire's front lines until he could kill Edelgard."

"It's my fault." 

Sylvain hesitates for a moment before he finally says, "Yeah. But you intended to die to save him. That counts for something. I know it counts for a lot, to him." 

"And to you?" Felix asks, as Sylvain avoids looking at him. "I heard a rumour while I was still recovering in bed. About how I was only pretending to be a traitor to the Kingdom so that I could stop the Imperial army from within. How it was all prearranged. Do you have anything to do with that?"

"I didn't do it for you," Sylvain replies. "Besides, you did most of it yourself. I wasn't the only one who saw you kill Imperial forces on Tailtean Plains. You killed Edelgard's chief advisors with your own hands. I don't think anyone who saw that would question your loyalty."

"You saw me do it," Felix says, reluctant to voice the question that comes with it. 

Sylvain sighs heavily, running both hands through his hair. "Are you up for a walk?"

Felix rises to his feet. "Not a long one." 

"That's fine. Maybe the courtyard or something. Just not here." Sylvain looks around meaningfully. Not where other people might hear them talk.

Sylvain walks ahead, before he realises that Felix is falling behind. He slows down, giving Felix an apologetic smile. Felix pushes on, knowing better than to pick up his pace because his entire body will punish him for it later. He's panting again by the time he reaches the stone bench in the courtyard, sweat clinging to his forehead. 

Sylvain sits beside him, taking a leisurely look around to ensure that they're alone. He drops his voice anyway. "Your loyalty lies with Dimitri. Not the Kingdom or anything else, but him. That's obvious enough, but I know you wouldn't have taken the mission from Hubert to come here back then unless you thought you could kill Dimitri as you were told to."

"I did," Felix admits. "Before I came back, before I saw him, I thought I could."

"You didn't realise you loved him," Sylvain says. "Back then, when I made you realise how you felt. That was real." 

"I thought," Felix says haltingly, keeping his gaze fixed on his ring, "I thought I could love him and hate him at the same time. No, that's not right. I did. I still do, sometimes."

A sideways glance at Sylvain then, who raises his hands in front of him with a half-smile. "You only think you hate him because he loves you too much. I'm not turning you in for treason just because your husband adores you and you're too fucked up to deal with it."

Felix exhales loudly through his nose. "I wanted to think I could love him and want him dead at the same time. I wanted to think I could let that happen." 

Sylvain laughs, but the sound catches in his throat. He rubs a hand over his face, suddenly looking tired. "You know, as we were marching to meet the Imperial army, I told myself that if I saw you on their side, I was going to kill you. And I tried. I thought I tried. But there you were, warning me about the Church. Worrying about Dimitri."

"You wouldn't have killed me," Felix says, with the quiet confidence he used to have in his ability to fight. 

Sylvain laughs again. "No, I wouldn't have. And you never would have killed Dimitri. You've never been good at following orders you don't agree with."

"I remember you warning me that any lords who wanted to take issue with Dimitri would use any fault they found in me and hold it against him." Felix wonders how much damage he's already done. "If I stay, won't I make that worse?"

"That's part of the reason I spread those rumours about you," Sylvain admits. "Again, you did most of the work. You nearly died for Dimitri. You did your bloodline proud. The only thing that would make the lords celebrate your bravery more than they already are is if you'd actually died in the process."

"Faerghus," Felix says with disgust. He's avoided thinking too hard about Glenn in all of this but the comparison is a little too easy to make. Just because he doesn't want to, it doesn't mean others will avoid doing the same. "What of the Church? I notice the Archbishop isn't here."

"She's returned to Garreg Mach with the Professor." Sylvain shrugs. "She got what she wanted and she's a powerful ally for Dimitri to have. We'll have to be careful of her moving forward, but she's no longer an immediate threat. We don't have any way of proving that what happened at Arianrhod was her doing. Cornelia was stationed there and she's never been the most trustworthy person herself. It could have been something she set up. At this point, we just don't know."

Felix nods in reply. "As long as Dimitri is safe. That's all that matters."

Dimitri steps into sight then, walking through the stone arch leading into the courtyard and Felix lifts his head, drawn to him automatically. Dimitri smiles warmly at him, nodding in greeting to Sylvain as he walks over.

"I was expecting to find you in the training yard."

"I did find him there." Sylvain grins. "I got him before he could even pick up a sword, though."

"Great, you're ganging up on me," Felix mutters. "Now all I need is for Ingrid to join you."

"Maybe we'll rope her in to bully you too when she gets back from her supply run," Sylvain laughs. "She'll love that. Anyway, I'll leave you both to it."

Dimitri sits in the space Sylvain vacates, reaching over to take Felix's hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Felix leans into Dimitri's side, squeezing his hand. "But at least I'm tired somewhere that isn't our room. It's nice to be outside."

"It's nice to see you outside," Dimitri replies, bringing their joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to the back of Felix's hand. "It was nice to see you talking to Sylvain. He was furious when you left."

"So were you," Felix points out, but he understands all the same. Sylvain isn't the type to get angry easily, and he's been hurt enough by those close to him as it is. Felix knows it will take some time until he can repair their friendship. He sighs quietly. "I'm sorry. I've never said it to you and I should have. For so many things."

Dimitri kisses him, then touches their foreheads together. "Just promise you won't leave again. There's still so much left to do, for Fódlan, for your recovery, and for my own. I won't pretend to be well. Not any more, when losing you was enough to turn me into a mindless monster. There's nothing to do but fix what's broken."

"Good," Felix replies, kissing him back. 

"And you'll be here?" Dimitri asks. "With me?" 

Felix nods, more certain of this than he ever thought he could be. "I'll be here. To the very end."  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic definitely could not have been completed without a massive amount of support and encouragement from my friends.
> 
> Thank you [Bent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble) for listening to me complain my way through the middle of this fic. Thank you [Jaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross) for kicking my ass into gear and seeing this through to the end. Thank you [Lin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru) for all the claw-holding and the beta-reading and for generally being the entire reason I signed up to do this. Thank you to the big bang mods for running such a wonderful event and for running it so well. Thank you again to [Mino](https://twitter.com/minophisch) for the beautiful art and for being such a great and encouraging partner!
> 
> Thank _you_ for reading this. 
> 
> The title is taken from the lyrics of _hoax_ by Taylor Swift, who very kindly released an entire album about dimilix in time for me to listen to it on loop while finishing this fic.


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